#(he/him + don't tag as kin please) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chernabogs · 7 months ago

Note

I saw in your tags for the scenario promts that you're accepting requests👀 How about “you will always follow the trail in the wood, and it will guide you on the same path, to the same cottage, the same witch. it will always be your undoing” with Yuu? or, if you don't write for them, “names are not like currency here; they are more precious than diamonds and legacies” with Malleus?

I'll give u both xoxo

The Woodcutter and The Prince

Inc: Malleus Draconia, Reader/Yuu, Sebek Zigvolt, Silver, Lilia Vanrouge, Grim Warnings: None for once LMAO WC: 4.3k Summary: A fairy tale of a woodcutter, a beast, three knights, and a lonely prince.

It feels appropriate to begin the story with ‘once upon a time,’ the token element, as that’s what all tales of magic and monsters begin with.

So, once upon a time, there was a woodcutter.

You, or Yuu, as many called you, were somewhat of a respectable member of your village. As one of the few people who was brave enough to go trekking into the darkened woods beyond the boundaries for the needs of the villagers, they often turned to you for aid when times grew dire, and winter began its inevitable descent. You had grown up in these woods. You had seen many of the things that the shadows and the soil had to offer, and so you had come to settle into this life alone, becoming quite content in your role as a provider.

One day, when you are deep within the bowels of nature that never seemed sated, the sharp blade of your axe biting into an oak as you sought to fill your quota, a great beast steps onto the path before you. Fire laps in its ears, and it has a tail like a trident, which twitches and sways in irritation. It holds its head low to meet your gaze, and it’s with that stare that you find your arm stilling, the axe soon held limply by your side. When you cease your cutting, the beast gives a low rumble from within its chest before speaking.

“Woodcutter, there is a beast in this forest that cannot stop devouring. If you can satisfy him, you will be rewarded.”

You take a wary step back then, your gaze uncertain as you observed the power rippling beneath the great cat's skin. Its toothy smile contrasts the softer tone it uses to share with you its plea. Yet, despite all these aspects, you feel no malice in its presence. So you heft your axe onto your shoulder and fix the beast with a frown.

“How can I be of help? I come out here to cut the woods, not satisfy the monsters they house.”

The beast's tail flicks again as it settles on its haunches. Reptile-like claws dig into the soil of the earth as a shuddering sigh leaves its form. “The beast is a prince who, despite having all the possessions in the world, still carries an emptiness in his core. He is guarded by three knights who let him do as he pleases. Open their eyes, and your reward shall be even greater.”

“How can I even find this prince, or beast, or whatever he may be? The woods are so grand you can hardly expect me to know every corner.” You gesture to the thick trunks and towering leaves around you. “I know only what is close to my home, as that’s all I’ve ever needed. These woods have been more than giving.”

“You know where he is already. You have walked that path before—though you may need to dig into your dreams to see it. You will always follow the trail in the woods, and it will guide you on the same path, to the same cottage, the same beast. It will always be your undoing—or, in this case, his.” The beast smiles a great grin that showed its many rows of shard-like teeth. “Do you not love your home? Do you not love your kin? If you leave him be, he will come upon your doorsteps in time like a starving wraith. He will claw his way into your homes and feed you sweet dreams until you rot to dust in your beds. Then, he will simply move on.”

“He sounds horrid,” you sputter, your grip on the axe tightening. The beast nods.

“In a sense, he is. But even the most horrid can change with the right prompting. So tell me—are you good at carving?”

You find your curiosity soon outweighing your fright over the beast and the tales that he spins. His warnings of what will happen to your home, should this prince be left unchecked, sends shivers up your spine and you find yourself nodding at his words. The beast almost looks satisfied as he rises again with another rumbling purr. He slips back into the brush that he emerged from, the foliage swallowing his form, until all that is left for you to see is a pair of burning blue eyes.

“Good luck, woodcutter. The forest now rests in your hands.”

And with that, he leaves you alone once more, with nothing more than an axe and a marred tree as your companions.

________________________

You do not remember your dreams very well. You never have, even in your youth. They seem to dissipate out of your mind as soon as you wake, leaving you grasping at the vaguest of visions to piece together what tapestry your mind wove. Still, your feet carry you forward into the woods with sure steps, the axe still held on your shoulder as you walk. It feels as though you travelled for many hours until you came upon the first of the three the beast warned you of—a man with green hair, and armour of iron.

“Today, we will enter the valley,” the man declares, unaware of your presence at the edges of the meadow, “and my prince shall find his companionship there.”

You watch on as the knight looks back along the path, as though expecting someone else, before he moves to a stream close to your hiding position. You lower yourself closer to the twigs and branches below before clearing your throat to speak in a low murmur.

“Fine knight,” you coo, throwing your voice to make it sound far different than it is, “do you truly intend to let your prince enter the valley?”

The green knight stands sharply, his hand touching his sword hilt as his eyes flash with anger. “Who goes there?” He demands, his voice like a booming of thunder across the meadow. You remain concealed as you speak again.

“Fine knight, do you truly think your prince will find a companion in the valley? What will he do if he does not? He will become more despondent, more enraged, and he will pull you into a dreamless sleep as he has so many others. Will you let him do that?” Your nails tap the handle of your axe as you watch the knight's expression. “Will you let him steal your dreams too?”

The knight doesn’t seem too fond of the idea as he stands by the stream, a conflicted look upon his face. His hand clenches and unclenches on his sword hilt before he looks back to the path once more. “I do not wish… to see my prince despondent anymore,” he murmurs, his voice now less fierce than before.

“Then find me a piece of yew and bring it to where your prince lay. I shall make it so that he may never feel alone again.” You urge. The knight seems uncertain still.

“Who are you? How can I trust you?” He demands again. You hum quietly from your hiding place.

“I am Yuu, and I swear that I will not lay a hand on your prince. If I do, you may guide the waters that fill this stream to fill my lungs instead.”

Well, this satisfies the knight, and with a huff and a nod he goes stomping into the forest to search for a yew tree. Once he’s gone, you creep out of your hiding place to continue down the path from your dream, pleased that the first obstacle is now done.

________________________

You find yourself disheartened as the walk carries on and the sun creeps further across the sky. It was dawn when you began, and now it is midday. Still, your mind remains focused as the beast's warnings play over, allowing you to be alert enough to hear humming before the figure emerges. The second knight is a creature in himself—a fae, wearing the clothes of a travelling merchant instead of the armour the first knight adorned.

He does not give you a chance to hide. His red eyes are locking with yours before you can even move, and the grin he offers shows a pair of brilliant white canines in his mouth. “Fine day, is it not?”

You pause, your axe on your shoulder as you open your mouth to respond before falling silent again. The knight and you observe each other for a moment before he speaks once more. “What brings you so deep in these woods? You are of the valley.”

“I am.” You answer deftly as you squeeze your axe handle again. “I am here to complete a task.”

“And what task might bring a woodcutter out here?” The knight prompts, taking a seat on a nearby stump to prop his chin in his hands. His smile does not waver as he watches you, and you know that trying to lie about your purpose to him will be a folly on your end.

“Do you truly intend to let your prince enter the valley?” You instead ask, lowering your axe as you shift your weight on your feet. The knight raises one dark eyebrow.

“Why should we not?” He replies easily. “He is our prince, after all. He wishes to find companionship, among others.”

“But dearest knight, do you truly think your prince will find a companion in the valley? What will he do if he does not? He will become more despondent, more enraged, and he will pull you into a dreamless sleep as he has so many others. Will you let him do that?” Your nails tap the handle of your axe as you watch the knight's expression. “Will you let him steal your dreams too?”

“I have no dreams left to steal!” The knight laughs as he leans back on the stump. “My nights are as empty as an abyss.”

“Then what of the others? When he steals away dreams and leaves everyone asleep, he will simply move on to another village. He will still be utterly alone. Do you wish to see him like that?” You pause to gesture to the silent woods around you. “Will you let him continue to hurt as well?”

The knight seems less fond of this idea as his smile wavers. Perhaps you are misjudging it, but this knight has an almost fatherly look about him when it comes to matters regarding his prince. His black nails tap his leg before speaking. “What do you offer him in turn, then?”

“Find me a smooth carving stone and bring it to where your prince lay. I shall make it so that he may never feel alone again.” You urge. The knight tilts his head in consideration.

“Who are you, and how can I trust you?” He muses. “We take great offence to lies, you know.”

“I am Yuu, and I swear that I will not lay a hand on your prince. If I do, you may urge the roots that tether these trees to tether my body instead.”

Well, this satisfies the knight, who rises from the stump with a soft laugh before stepping towards you. He touches your arm lightly and looks up at you with a mischievous grin, which does little to hide the wariness in his eyes. “Be kind to him, hm?”

Once he’s gone, you hoist your axe back upon your shoulder and continue down the path, the knights parting words now playing alongside the beasts in your mind.

________________________

Once more, you become disheartened as the midday sun soon shifts onto afternoon. You thought you’d find the prince faster and perhaps bypass the final knight, but it doesn’t seem that the world is willing to give you this break. When you come across the third obstacle, you do not see him as much as you do trip over his form. A stuttered gasp passes your lips as you regain your footing before looking down, where a pair of aurelian eyes are blearily looking up at you.

“Hm?” Languidly, the third knight sits up from his position beneath the tree. His silver hair nearly blinds you in the sunlight, but this still doesn’t stop you from seeing the peculiar army of animals hovering around his form. Squirrels, chipmunks, birds—it’s as though the entire forest rests by his side. “Who might you be?”

“Yuu.” You answer immediately, blinking your confusion away as you shift to face the odd man. He seems unbothered by both your presence and your axe as he remains sitting on the forest floor. “Are you… a knight?”

“Mhm.” The man hums back as he rubs his eyes before rising to his feet. The act sends the animals scurrying away in a tizzy as his attention drifts to you. “Are you in need of aid? You’re quite far from where the village lay in the valley.”

“I’m on a quest of sorts.” You watch the animals hovering on the edge of the treeline in interest before looking back to the knight. Despite his sleepy gait, there’s an alertness in his eyes that warns you off from trying any form of deception. “Do you intend to let your prince enter the valley?”

The silver knight looks surprised for a moment before he crosses his arms, a frown touching his lips. “... if he wishes to, yes.”

“But do you wish him to, knowing all that he will do if his desires fall through?” You decide a more honest conversation is best with this knight, who seems apprehensive of the plan to begin with. The silver knight looks past you to the pathway beyond for a moment before exhaling a soft sigh.

“I do not wish to see him hurt. I care for him dearly, for he is family to me, but…” the knight trails off, leaving you to pick up his sentence. “I also do not wish to see him so alone anymore. My father, my friend, and I—we have always been here for him, but he seems unable to see that.”

His father and his friend must have been the other two knights. You brave a step closer to the silver knight. “Do you think your prince will find a companion in the valley? What will he do if he does not? He will become more despondent, more enraged, and he will pull you into a dreamless sleep as he has so many others. Will you let him do that?”

“I can travel in dreams, so it is of no worry to me. But my father and my friend cannot.” The silver knight seems torn for a moment, standing on the precipice of loyalty and love, before his brilliant gaze looks to you again. “What are you offering, Yuu?”

“Find me clay—primed for creating—and bring it to where your prince lay. I shall make it so that he may never feel alone again.” You promise. He looks unsure for a moment.

“How can I trust you?” He asks, his voice soft and full of genuine concern.

“I swear that I will not lay a hand on your prince. If I do, you may take the stones that lay on this forest floor and lay them upon my body instead.”

Well, this satisfies the knight, who nods his head somberly before turning away. A wave of his hand sends the birds fluttering, the squirrels skittering, and many of the animals into a frenzy as he steps into the woods. You watch him until he vanishes before turning back to the path.

___________________________________

When the sun dips below the horizon and the sky above the woods is a blaze of golds and reds, that is when you see the home where the prince resides.

True to the beast's words, it is not a grand palace you encounter, but a cottage nestled deep within the woods. A garden surrounds the home, which is built of stone and oak, and a fence guards the path to the front door. You push it open with some trepidation before following the stones to the entrance. A part of you seeks to take your axe within, but another part protests, leaving you to set it aside instead.

The door gives in to your push with little protest. When you pass through the threshold, you are enveloped in a warmth that seems unnatural, making your skin prickle beneath the wool clothing that keeps you safe in the woods. You tug on your collar as you look around the room—carvings and trinkets decorate the space, each one hand-crafted by someone who resides here.

And this is when your gaze comes to rest on him.

He’s observing you as you observe the space. He is a tall man—of this you can tell, even from where he sits—with sharp green eyes and dark lips which are twisted into a frown. Two black horns rise from his head into sharpened points, which are where your eyes go to immediately even as he speaks.

“Yuu.” Your name rolls off his tongue with such ease that it sends a chill down your spine. You look at him in surprise, wondering how he knows your name already, which he then goes to answer with his next few words. “Names are not like currency here; they are more precious than diamonds and legacies. You give yours far too freely to expect it not to spread.”

“Was it your knights?” You query as you move closer, drawing a chair out to sit across from him. The act momentarily surprises him as his expression shifts. This is a victory you take. “They all asked me for my name before I passed.”

“No, not the knights. Nature is a most noisy companion. Every breeze, every leaf, and every insect are buzzing about your venture. Dearest woodcutter, what is it that you seek from me?” The words are spoken with an undercurrent of distrust as the prince’s lip curls, showing teeth similar to those of the second knight. You take note of his pointed ears as well. A fae—not a monster like the beast said. Not even close, in fact. The guardedness in his gaze is not born of hostility. “You left your axe outside.”

“I haven’t used it at all on my walk. And I seek nothing more than a conversation.” You lean back in your chair as you glance out the nearby window. This position will let you see when the three knights make their return.

“You do not seek congenial conversation. I sense an interrogation is on the horizon.” He gives a harsh scoff as he crosses his arms. The temperature in the room seems to rise with his frustrations. “What is it you want, woodcutter?”

“Are you going to the valley?” You bend to his demands and ask your questions as you meet his eye again. There is no cowering or simpering in your seat—you match his gaze steadfast with your own resilience.

“What if I am?” He counters with all the haughtiness a young prince may possess. The act makes him seem more human and prompts a quirk of amusement in your lips.

“What is it you desire?”

“Why does what I desire concern you?”

“Because I have been warned of what may happen if you cannot find it.” A moment of silence passes at your statement as the prince’s stubbornness remains. Then he sneers.

“Did the beast offer you a prize? Is that what you want? A pretty reward for stopping me?” He hisses. You consider his words carefully. At first you did want a reward, in addition to aiding your fellow villagers. The three knights you’ve met have altered this perception, however. The first one with his unwavering loyalty showed you what the prince could be. The second one with his paternal concern showed you what the prince has been. The third knight with his uninhibited care to both the prince and his family showed you what the prince is.

This is not a monster. This is a man in a cottage who has, in some way, been put in a role he isn’t sure he wants to fulfill. He has fallen into content monotony—precisely like you.

So you shake your head because you know this is the truthful thing to do. “I did want the reward, but not anymore. I would rather talk to you for a while.”

Another flash of surprise sparks another twinge of victory in your chest as the prince leans back in his seat. “... talk to me?”

“Mhm.” You gesture to the room. “Did you make these?”

“I?” The prince then looks around as well, as though noticing the carvings himself for the first time, before clearing his throat. “Some, yes. Others were aided by my knights. It is somewhat of a stress reliever for us.”

“They are quite nice.” You praise, which eases the tension in his body a little more, opening the opportunity for more. “How did you get into such a hobby?”

________________________

When the three knights return, night has fallen, and you have managed to coax the fearsome prince into quite the drawn-out conversation. You note that he becomes far more vibrant in his speech when speaking of things he’s passionate about, to the point that he hardly notices the three knights nudging open the door until you pause the conversation yourself.

“Hello again.” You greet them, noting the materials they carry in their arms. The green knight seems guarded still as he looks between you and the prince, while the other two knights merely offer brief, knowing smiles before setting the materials on the counter.

A piece of yew, a stone, and an excess of clay held in a makeshift bucket. The prince’s eagerness is replaced by curiosity as he leans forward to stare at the items.

“Did you go foraging?” He asks the second knight incredulously. A tittering laugh is his response as the knight drifts to your side.

“Lilia.” Malleus shoots back with a narrowed gaze, which only prompts Lilia’s entertainment over this matter further. “You, Silver, and Sebek are all obliging to a woodcutters orders, hm?”

“Well, Yuu. You’ve seemed to have made yourself quite at home here,” he muses, the amusement never leaving him as glances at the prince. “Malleus, to not have even offered our guest a drink. Have I taught you nothing?"

A wave of his hand has a steaming mug of... something, appear before you. You eye it for a moment before lightly taking the mugs handle. You don'r drink it, though.

“Oh, our dear Yuu was persuasive. They told me I could feed them to trees, told Sebek he could feed them to the river, and told Silver he could stone them if they put a hand on you—so we were not overly concerned.” Lilia pinches your arm lightly before looking at the supplies you asked. “I wager I have an idea of what these were gathered for, but please Yuu, do enlighten us.”

“Well, it’s far too late to do anything now—at least for me,” you quickly add as you glance at the quartet, “but I understand, Prince Malleus, that it’s companionship you’re seeking?”

Malleus seems slightly displeased at your read of him as he glowers at you—a sharp contrast from his previous joy. It’s Silver’s light nudging to his arm that finally draws a curt nod out of the prince.

“I know it may not be apparent to you, but companionship is already something that you have. Are you not accompanied by people who care for you in your daily life already?” You gesture to the three knights before continuing your points. “It may be hard to hear but promises of dreams and endless sleep are not ways to earn more people by your side. I began this thinking I was hunting a monster, but now I sit here across from you knowing that you and I are more alike than we think.”

Malleus seems ready to speak, but you shake your head, which causes his mouth to close once more. You then point to the items that the knights collected. “Each of those items are capable of being crafted and changed in some manner. What tools would you use for them, Malleus?”

“A blade for wood, a chisel for stone, and my hands for the clay.” Malleus answers immediately.

“Those are all tools you have on hand. Tools that can allow you to craft wonderful things if used right and if taught correctly.” You then look back to the prince. “Speaking with your knights has shown me that you are someone worthy of being cared for, of being around. You don’t need to go storming into villages—you have tools to earn their care. You just need someone to show you how to use them.”

You then sink back in your chair with a sigh. “I’m just a woodcutter, yes, but I’m also someone who knows my village well. If you let me, I can introduce you to them—without the sleep part.”

A pause fills the room as Malleus seems to consider your offer. The three knights remain silent near the door, but you can see by the looks being exchanged and the shifting on their feet that they, too, are hoping he concurs.

“... you give a rather valiant speech.” Malleus finally hums as his fingers go to touch his chin thoughtfully. “If you are willing, then perhaps… yes. I think I would quite like that, dearest woodcutter.”

If the room could heave a collective sigh, you’re sure that it would as you rest your elbows on the table with a small laugh. You do not know what the beast’s reward was meant to be, and the curiosity about it fades as you offer the cautious prince a reassuring smile.

You haven’t the heart to tell the man that you’ve never carved a single thing in your life, and that your entire speech was winged on the spot—but that’s an issue for another day.

#twst #twst fanfiction #twst yuu #twst mc #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #twst silver #lilia vanrouge

109 notes · View notes

channieskies · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter II: The Heir of New Aeris

Pairing: Prince Hyunjin x Reader (AFAB)

Genre: Historical|Au, Fantasy|Au, Strangers to Lovers, Royalty|Au, Angst, Smut, NSFW tags are under the cut.

Synopsis: The kingdom of Volantis is in disarray; the monarch rules with an iron fist. The times of hope, harmony, and kindness were buried with the queen who passed many years ago. The people are praying for a savior, but who will be their light at the end of this dark tunnel?

Authors Note: Please reblog or leave a like or comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.Warnings: MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost to other sites.

Word Count: 1691 [Reading Time: 7 mins]

Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction.

Story Index

Warnings⚠️: MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost to other sites. Mentions of Death (minor character)

The room had fallen into chaos. Confusion settling into the cracks of each duke's polished demeanor, all but one. “If the next child she bears is a girl, we will have to crown some other next of kin as the heir. Donnius, track down the king's sister and her son.” The rotund man told a servant who quickly skittered off to do as told.

“He would never be fit for king with his.. iniquitous habits. I object to the suggestion.” Another waved off the idea, his nose held high in the air with disgust.

“There is a distant cousin on his mothers side- Never mind that, Her appearance was just deceiving.” The hope quickly disappeared from another man's voice as he examined the royal family's tapestry.

A man sat quietly at the head of the table, watching the spectacle in front of him unfold. Had they forgotten the truth? Forgotten the old kingdom before darkness had fallen over it with the death of their queen? He groaned, stroking his gray lined beard. It was clear he was tired of watching things unfold as they were.

“Have you truly forgotten how our Queen died?” The men in the room came to a halt as his booming voice filled the space. “She made the sacrifice of giving her life for the heir to this kingdom. Do not forget that. Don't EVER forget that.”

The rotund man cleared his throat before speaking, “No one has seen or heard from the prince in over a decade. Who is to say he's even still… with us, Ermias?” The man called Ermias stood from his seat, towering over everyone in the room.

“He is alive and safe.” He made his way to the door. “I will leave in the morning to retrieve the only option we have. Keep the kingdom and the royal family safe while I am away. If something goes awry, send my daughter on the fastest steed you have.”

“Your daughter?” The man in front of the tapestry laughed. Why would we send a woman when we have plenty of able-bodied, capable men that can do the job?” The other men in the room looked wide eyed at his sudden outburst. One even mouthed “You fool” as the words left his mouth.

“Because my daughter is one of the most capable and trustworthy people in this kingdom. Because my daughter is more skilled than all of your men combined. So, I trust that my daughter will be informed of any mishaps, correct? Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a trip to prepare for.”

Ermias was the Duke of State for the Kingdom of Aeris, the newest acquisition of land conquered by King Seojoon. It was named after the king's late wife Aeri, after a war that lasted five years. Ermias was a general in the king's army and after his procurement of the land left him with a limp, he was promised a high position in the government. He worked through the ranks, becoming one of the king's most trusted advisors.

But Ermias hated politics. He considered himself to be more of a doer instead of one that dictated what the doers should do. Commanding an army felt completely different than what it was he did now. But at the behest of his wife and two daughters, he knew resuming his work as the general was not an option. So, he begrudgingly took a seat on the high council, helping to govern over the southern states of the king's land.

The commute home was tedious. His home was far from the castle town of Volantis and even further from the new Kingdom of Aeris. He lived with his family on a plot of land that was left to his wife, passed down from generation to generation. An apple farm, with the most deliciously sweet fruits hanging from its trees. Their home was modest, just a few stories with a few rooms. The greatest in which was the library, intellect was the thing they held in most regard. The small castle almost swallowed up the vast land that surrounded its pale crape bricks. With an orchard, vineyard, and gardens bordering it, it nearly blended into its surroundings with all of the ivy covering its facade. He truly found his home to be as beautiful and inviting as the women who lived in it.

His long trip home concluded in the wee hours of the morning. He expected no one to be awake, so he was shocked when he found his eldest daughter camped out at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for his arrival. “Father!” She jumped to her feet and into his arms, hugging him tightly. “How was the council meeting?” She moved to help him out his coat and shoes. “Have they all settled on an heir? Are they going to retrieve the prince?” She knew all about the Prince and how he'd been hidden away during the war. Ermias sighed, slipping his shoes off and pulling his daughter with him to his study so that they could talk more privately.

See, Ermias had a son once, one that was seventeen years his first daughter's senior. Nikolas was the first born to the family. Both he and his wife Semira were very young when he was born. They were newly married when they got the news that they were expecting, but happy nonetheless. He lived to the age of twenty and he died fighting in the war alongside his father Ermias. He vowed that he'd never lose a child like that again. He taught his daughters in the years after how to not only defend themselves, but how to think defensively and also know when to back down.

He was happy knowing that his girls would never have to fight in a war, especially unprepared. But, if need be, they could protect their home, their mother, and each other. “Sit. I'll tell you all about it.” His walk was heavy, tired from years of war and hard day's of travel. “They presumed the prince was dead. That is if they hadn't forgotten he'd existed entirely.” He shuffled through his desk, looking for something the king had given him many years before. “

“I have a feeling that a few councilors are trying their best to find someone they can control to put in the prince's place, just to amass power. We can't let them have their way, Volantis will fall and the kingdom will be in disarray. We are just recovering from the war, the people cannot suffer through another. I will pack my bags and make the trip to the Isle of Arcta in the mor-”

“No, father.” His daughter shook her head. “Send me and one of your best men. The trip is far too treacherous for you to travel. I know you'd never admit to it, but I know you've been ill these last few weeks. The stress of your job and having to help with some of the king's duties are taking a toll on you. So, I will go in your stead.” Ermias couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. His precious daughter had grown to become a strong and beautiful woman. He found the small pendant that he'd stored away for safe keeping. It was a symbol of how he'd helped the king secure the lands that were now under rule of the throne. One that would be recognized by the maid that kept watch over the prince.

“My darling daughter, my how you've grown.” He stood to his feet, remembering the last time a child of his took on a task this heavy. There was a display on his bookcase of swords he cherished too much to use. One of which was his son's, the one he was clutching as he died on the battlefields. It was one of Ermias’ most prized possessions, something that his father passed on to him and he passed on to his son. Now, he was passing it on to his daughter, along with the king's guard pendant he'd stored away.

Shaky hands grabbed the sheath and hilt of the old sword. He sighed, the metal feeling heavy in his hands with thoughts of the burdens of war, plaguing his mind. “This does not mean I want you to fight. I’m passing you this sword to protect yourself, to protect the prince.” He finally turned around, presenting the great sword to his daughter. The hilt was ornate gold and ivory, while the ricasso had the family's coat of arms; the raven on an apple.

The rest of the blade had the family's motto written down in latin; “Po familia vivimus et pugnamus.” For family, we live and we fight. Then he placed the necklace around her neck, moving her hair out of the way to fasten it. The pendant sat low on her chest, falling between her breasts, where thankfully it would be hidden. If the wrong people were to see it, it would cause unnecessary trouble for her, and that was something he didn't want.

The sword was something that his daughter was told not to touch when she was a child. After his son lived and died by the sword, he was afraid she would suffer the same fate. The last thing he wanted was to lose his daughter the way that he lost his son. “Wake Minho, tell him to pack for the trip.” Minho was the duke's housecarl, he’d been with the family since boyhood. Ermias found him nearly dead in the woods during the war.

Bandits found him and his mother, running from the onslaught of war that had overtook their small town. They did unspeakable things to his mother, killing her in the process. They nearly killed him too; beating the child until he was bloody and almost unrecognizable. Because of the trauma of that day, he hasn't uttered a word since. “I’ll prepare your carriage and horses.” He kissed his daughter's forehead, lips lingering there as if this would be the last time he’d ever get the chance to see her again.

A.N: Please reblog or leave a like or comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.

[Rewrites, Reposts, and Translations are Prohibited]

#stray kids #hyunjin #hwang hyujin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #neverendingdreams #stray kids x reader #hyunjin angst #chaptered fic #stray kinds royal au #skz royal au #hyunjin royal au #skz au #prince hyunjin #skz drabbles #stray kids drabbles

93 notes · View notes

taxidermycanine · 11 months ago

Text

WELCOME TO MY KIN-BLOG . MEET ME BELOW

my name is bandit, i am 19 and a wolf therian. i go by it/its prns (though he/him and rot/rots work well too) and have various mental illnesses such as schizophrenia, DID and BPD. please be patient with me as i experience severe amnesia due to this.

i post about various things, but mainly stick to my experiences as a therian (and therian shitposting). and as my username suggests, i am very interested in taxidermy, which means you will likely find quite a lot of the sorts in my blog :O<

LIST OF TAGS I USE — ALWAYS ADDING MORE

confessions of the dog —➤ personal posts, relatable therian stuff, overall experiences. mainly used by jackal, bandit also uses this

𐂯

bandit barks —➤ nonsensical ramblings of the dog, used for random shit that still usually falls under therianthropy

𐂯

boof boofs —➤ domestic dog therian posting, funnies, mainly used by bandit

𐂯

fox yips —➤ fox therian stuff, personal posts. mainly used by fox

𐂯

taxidermy —➤ used to warn others that there will be taxidermy related content in a post (such as images, descriptions or future projects)

𐂯

corpse tw —➤ to warn people that there is an image of an animal corpse in my post (such as this one). I WILL NEVER POST HUMAN CORPSES

𐂯

jackal.txt —➤ for when jackal answers a question :0}

𐂯

fox.txt —➤ for when fox answers a question :>

𐂯

bandit.txt —➤ for when bandit answers a question :O<

^ you get the gist!

IMPORTANT THINGS TO NOTE

i block freely and often forget to follow others back when i mean to do so

i do not go into detail about my mental illnesses, though sometimes a few of my alters will post on this account too as we are — for the most part — all collectively therians

whilst i am open to making friends on here please know that i am very socially awkward and will also forget to respond to your messages at times if you do not continue to do so. i am trying my best to get better at this

i view myself as physically nonhuman

sometimes i forget where i get images from, please let me know if i accidentally post someone elses image without credit. i don't mean to and it's always accidental, not out of malicious intent

DNI / BOUNDARIES

as i am an adult i would prefer if those under 15 did not follow me

please use common sense before following my account. i am a therian blog, if you post about real human gore then i obviously don't want you following me

i block and unfollow freely. if you are blocked it's likely that you didn't do anything wrong, please do not take it personally

i do not want anyone flirting with me. i am married and this makes both me and my mate uncomfortable

sh/gore/ed accounts or anything similar do NOT interact or follow please, thank you

144 notes · View notes

iiotic · 7 months ago

Text

Ink sans fluff headcanons

ask: hi in my humble opinion YOU (someone who from an outside perspective seems pretty awesome) should write ink / GN reader fluff headcanons. i feel like you have a good grasp on his character from what i've seen! - anon

tags: Gn reader, really just wholesome Fluff?? Ink being a sweetheart, not proff read.

word count: 0.6k

Okay let me start of with the fact that this guy cannot feel any emotions without his potions!! However I do not think that if he'd drink the pink bootle of paint he'd fall into the first person he sees. You would have to be chosen.

Ink would love a creative partner, who'd go with him on his lil' adventures!! You don't need to be as enthusiastic as he is just make sure to listen to his rambling.

This guy is completely new to this romance thing so you'll have to be patient with him. His love language is probably gift giving and quality time.

He'd ask a lot of question; what? Why? but as I said he's clueless. Of course, he had seen people dating in some of the aus but he never experienced it himself.

As I said if you're more of an artistic person, he'd support every move that you make. Constantly complementing your work. Would be extremely honoured if you'd draw him, paint him, make sculpture of him or give him a gift, like a braselet just for him!! Tears of joy, literally.

This silly would absolutely draw you so he'd sometimes ask if you'd pose for him. If you agree he's pleased, and if you don't? Well he'd draw you in secret. At one point you will find out, but who cares? However even if you'll agree posing for him he'd draw you in secret, just when you're doing normal things, being yourself.

Are you someone who dyes their hair? Amazing!! He'd ask you if he can help, he really wants to help. Don't expect for it to be perfect, though. He doesn't know much, nor anything.. Really. You'd have to teach him but I hope you don't mind? This skeleton would put a shit tone of rainbow in your hair so it that's not what you're into, you'd have to remind him that.

If you like to dye your hair yourself, he's perfectly fine with that too! He can help you with mixing the paint or give you some towels.

He has shit tone of sketchbooks dedicated just for you!!

Since he's really forgetful and has a short term memory he'd write important dates on his scarf. Like your anniversary or your birthday!! Forgive him if he'd forget, he's a bit scary in a silly way.

If you're away from eachothers for some times, he'd give you some little things that remind him of you. Nothing too big, though. Like something that you both only get, an inside joke between you or a really pretty flower.

If you're a cuddler then i must dissapoint you couse this guy can seat still for a long period of time!! The longest he will seat if he'd take a quick nap which is really really rare because I headcanon that he doesn't have to sleep??

The first kiss would be an incident or be really awkward. He's really really trying to be romantic, but can you blame him for ruining such an important moment? He's trying his best + it'd probably a great, funny and wholesome memory. That only you will remember

(a/n) sorry if this is short!! I really need to get used to writing for ink. I KIN HIM A LOT TBH.

#Ink sans #Sans #Sans x reader #ink sans x reader #Ink #Ink x reader #ut au #Undertale au #sans au x reader #Sans aus x reader #Ink fluff headcanons #Ink sans headcanons #Headcanons

73 notes · View notes

a-killer-obsession · 7 months ago

Text

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 35 - Dawn

There's always a reason to keep going, you just have to find it. Please heed the AO3 tags, dark themes ahead.

Word Count: ~3k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055

Kid pulled at his hair as he paced, his red locks sticking up from how much he'd been yanking at them, the goggles that usually sat around his head now hanging around his neck. Heat and Wire watched him pace, not knowing what to say, but they felt the same troubles as he did. Nearby manic laughter rang out over the ship, accompanied by the sounds of wood cracking against wood.

“I don't know what to do anymore,” Kid nearly cried, “he's lost, I don't know how to help him. He won't eat, he won't sleep, he won't take his meds. He's still got her fucking blood on his hands. And I know she needs him, I know she does, but he won't fucking listen. It's like all he fucking cares about is the baby. But shes alive and needs him and he won't fucking listen to me”

“She's on the edge, I can see it in her eyes,” Heat sighed, “if we don't get him to see her soon, I'm afraid we'll lose her too. There's no way she's coming back to the ship after that if he won't even fucking look at her”

“He blames her for what happened,” Kid collapsed in a chair and held his head in his hands, “I told him it wasn't safe to have a kid on board, this is my fucking fault, it's my fucking dream that got their kid killed. He should be blaming me,” Kid slammed his fist against his chest to make his point.

“It's nobody's fault,” Wire added, “miscarriage is more common than people think, there's no way to say this wouldn't have just happened anyway.”

“Try telling him that,” Kid growled, “I don't know what to do anymore, short of locking him in the brig so he stops fucking shit up, there's nothing I can do”

Puru-puru-puru puru-puru-puru

The three of them looked at each other, confused, as the den-den mushi in the navigation room suddenly started to ring. Kid grumbled as he stood, grabbing the receiver probably a little too hard from the black and red snail. They were fucking busy who the fuck was calling this late, it was well past midnight at this point.

“The fuck you want?” Kid growled into the receiver.

“Eustass Kid?” A woman on the other voice asked nervously, the snail looking immensely uncomfortable.

“Yeah, what do you want?” He barked, “I ain't buying shit”

“This is Nurse Davina from the hospital on Beckton Island,” she squeaked, “we have you down as a next of kin for a Miss Val Yin?”

“Yeah, what happened?” Kid's voice turned to concern, there were very few reasons a hospital should be calling this late and none of them were good. “Is she okay?”

“Well you see sir, we just went to do her vitals, and her bed is empty,” she said anxiously, “our security cameras show her leaving the hospital in only her pyjamas about forty minutes ago”

“FORTY MINUTES AGO? WELL WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?” Kid roared, making the snail cower. Heat and Wire were already on their feet, crowding around the snail with concern, trying to hear what it had to say.

“I'm sorry sir, we do not currently know,” she sighed, “the police are looking for her but this late at night nobody was out to see where she went. I'm so sorry sir, we're doing our best but according to protocol it was my duty to inform you. She left on her own accord but we are very worried about her current mental state”

“No fucking shit, dumb cunts, she just lost her fucking baby!” Kid yelled into the receiver, “Call off your useless dogs, we'll find her our damn selves”

He slammed the receiver down and turned back to the other two. Heat had already retrieved your vivre card and was tearing small pieces off.

“Don't wake anyone else, I don't want it getting out,” Kid sighed as he took a piece.

“It's windy out there so only look at the vivre when you have to,” Heat informed them as they headed out. Kid paused at Killer's door, wondering if he should tell him, but decided ultimately that it was a waste of time.

“What's your name?”

Your toes hung over the edge of the cliff, the deep breath you'd taken to prepare to jump suddenly released as you were spooked by the sudden presence of another. You turned and saw a ghost, blonde hair floating around her hollowed cheeks, clothes tattered and dirty, wobbling on her feet from exhaustion.

“Your name, sweetheart,” she asked again, taking a step forward. She cradled in her arms a small bundle, everything she had in the word, held safe and close to her chest.

“It's.. Yin,” you replied, your voice hoarse.

“Yin…” she stepped forward, standing beside you and peering down at the jagged rocks below. “I'm guessing you came here for the same reason as I did”

The bundle in her arms moved and let out a weak cry. “Hush, hush, we'll feel better soon,” she cooed.

Without thinking you grabbed her shirt and tore her away from the cliff edge, putting yourself between her and the water. “What the fuck are you doing?” You screamed.

“We're starving, we have nothing,” she explained, a tear falling from the sharp edge of her chin as she looked down at her weak baby. They couldn't have been more than a few months old. “My milk has gone dry, I have nowhere to go, nobody to turn to. Even selling my body isn't enough anymore, nobody wants to fuck a skeleton. She's so weak she can't even cry anymore. I can't watch her hurt, I can't watch my baby starve to death. So I'm going with her.”

She took a step forward and you grabbed the baby, making her scream as you fought her for it. You kicked her down as you won, and before she could get back up you lifted your shirt, yanking away the bindings over your chest and holding the baby to your breast. Emotional suffering be damned, you'd already killed one baby, you weren't going to watch another die. The baby didn't latch at first, too weak to register the breast, so you squeezed until a few drops fell on her lips, and she finally got the hint. You had no idea what you were doing, but thankfully the baby did, and she made small noises as she greedily suckled. You lowered yourself to the ground, sitting cross legged and rocking side to side as you watched the baby feed, tears rolling down your cheeks as you cooed to her.

“How?” the woman cried, “are you an angel?”

“No, I just…” you looked at her with weeping eyes, “I lost my baby a few days ago. I'm sure I can ask my captain to help you, we have plenty of gold, we can give you whatever you need. Just please don't… please don't hurt her”

“She's safe now, I can see that,” the woman smiled. “I'm so happy. You'll take care of her, won't you?”

“You're both going to be okay, I'll make sure of it,” you promised her.

“I know,” she smiled, then she took another step back. You hadn't even noticed she'd been backing up until it was too late, a tear rolling down her cheek as she smiled and let herself fall. You screamed and reached for her, but it was too late. The baby was none the wiser, still suckling from your breast, tucked safe against you as you looked over the edge of the cliff and saw her mother's battered body laying over the rocks, her limbs set in unnatural angles, the water lapping at her leaking blood. Her eyes were open and lifeless, but there was a smile on her face.

Without warning you were pulled away from the edge, strong arms wrapped around you and dragging you far from it.

“YIN, DON'T DO IT PLEASE,” Wire begged, kneeling in front of you, taking your head in his hands with a desperate expression on his face.

“She jumped, why did she do that?” You cried. He scanned your face, confusion written on his. “Her.. her baby, why did she do that? She was going to be okay! Wire!!! Why did she do that!!!” You were pulling at his shirt, making holes in the mesh with your nails as you yelled.

“Who?” He asked, and you pointed to the cliff. He stood cautiously and looked over the edge, seeing the body that lay lifeless at the bottom. The baby whined and wiggled under your shirt, seeking more milk. You lifted your shirt again, Wire looking away on instinct to respect your privacy till he realised what you were holding. You turned the baby and she latched to your other breast, letting out a sigh of relief as the pressure that had been building for days was finally released.

“Yin, why do you have a baby?” Wire asked nervously, kneeling in front of you.

“It was hers,” you sniffed, bridging on hyperventilation, “she said they were starving, they came here to jump. I couldn't just watch her kill her baby, so I took it, and before I knew what I was doing it was feeding. She smiled at me and jumped, Wire, she smiled, why did she do that? I told her we could help her!”

Heat and Kid appeared at the edge of the forest behind you, Wire looking at them with a defeated expression as they approached, letting out relieved breaths that he had you and you were alive. They had all been running the same direction, but Wire had the longest legs by far, so he had naturally gotten to you the quickest. Kid removed his coat as he approached and draped it over your shoulders, letting out an audible gasp as Wire stood and the light from the sunrise illuminated the bundle in your arms, still firmly latched to your breast. Kid looked to Wire for answers, and he nodded towards the cliff edge. He saw the body, and turned back to you with a scrupulous look, opening his mouth to say something before Wire stopped him.

“She didn't push her,” Wire sighed, “she was just trying to help but the woman jumped anyway”

Heat sat down beside you, wiping the tears from your face, helping you calm your breathing to a safe level. The anguish in your eyes was indescribable, but in that moment he thought maybe he saw a flicker of happiness too. The baby had fallen asleep in your arms, releasing your nipple, milk still dribbling from it, but for now she was sated. Kid made a little frustrated growl and dropped down next to you, looking at the contented baby as you pushed your shirt back down. “Does it have a dad or something?”

“She said they had nobody,” you explained, rocking back and forth a little to soothe the sleeping child, not that the milk drunk little lady needed it, it was more for your benefit. “Sounded like she's been roughing it on the street and selling herself, but she said her milk went dry. She said she didn't want to watch her baby slowly starve so she came here to end it quickly for both of them. I just… I don't understand why she still jumped, I told her we would help”

“If she said she had nobody, maybe she didn't think she could keep going either way,” Heat said softly. “But the better question is what were you doing here? You're supposed to be in the hospital”

“I couldn't stay there anymore with all those crying babies and happy families,” you sniffed, “I just… ran. I… couldn't do it anymore…”

“So fucking call us to pick you up, don't go and kill yourself!” Kid growled. You whimpered and he sighed, pulling you carefully into his lap, wrapping his coat firmly around you and the baby. The orange-pink sunrise made the red feathers look like fire engulfing you, but perhaps more in the way they would a phoenix as you found your new resolve.

“I'm keeping her,” you said sternly.

“I figured as much,” Kid admitted with a groan, “but what about Kil?”

“What about him?” You growled, “He only gave a shit about his baby, he couldn't care less about me or he would have had the fucking decently to at least look at me. He and I are over. We're done.”

“He'll get over it, he just needs time,” Kid pleaded, “he needs you”

“And where was he when I needed him?” You barked, climbing out of Kid's lap and standing tall. “Where was he when my insides were torn open, when I had to deliver my own dead baby, when Mohawk had to remove my womb so I wouldn't bleed to death, when Heat had to explain I'm barren? Where was he the last day I've spent in hospital, waiting for him to walk through the door, to hold me and kiss me and tell me he still loves me? Where was he Kid?”

“He's having an episode,” Kid stood and held his hands out to you, trying to get you to understand, “he's not well”

“Oh he's not well? Well shit, better drop everything!” You laughed sarcastically, “tell him to take his fucking meds, some of us have real problems that can't be fixed with a pill”

Kid growled a warning at you minimizing Killer's mental condition and you rolled your eyes at him, “Fuck off Kid, I don't give two shits how much furniture he breaks, he tore my fucking heart open again after he swore he would never hurt me again, after he swore he would be there for me. He shut me out, go crying to him. How many times does he have to hurt me before I'm allowed to feel angry in your books?”

You wobbled weakly on your legs and Heat scooped you up, not wanting to take any risks especially with the baby sleeping in your arms. He started to carry you away as Kid continued to shout at you.

“You've got another thing coming if you think I'm gonna support you or that baby on the ship!” He called, his fists balled tight. He was furious, and he never made smart choices when he was mad. “Stay on this fucking island for all I care! You're nothing but a worthless whore, nothing but a life ruiner! We were all perfectly happy before you came on board and fucked everything up!”

Heat stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to Kid, in a rare moment of rebellion from the usually loyal man. “She doesn't need you, or Killer, she has me,” he spat, “and I'll burn the whole fucking ship down before I let you touch her or her baby. You wanna get rid of her? You can say goodbye to me too then”

Kid's jaw was on the floor as Heat turned back to the small dirt trail that ran through the forest, and you sobbed in his arms as he carried you, stoic and silent the whole journey back to the ship. He placed you on your own bed first, packing a hurried duffle of whatever was left in your old room before you'd moved in with Killer, mostly things that hadn't fit you while you were pregnant. He slung the bag over his shoulder and carried you to his room to do the same, and without looking back he picked you up one last time and silently carried you down the gangplank. You caught sight of blond hair in the breeze as he carried you along the dock, Killer watching you from behind his mask, standing at the nose of the dinosaur skull. Heat paid him no mind, and you adjusted the blanket he'd wrapped you in, making sure Killer saw the baby on your chest and the cold anger on your face before Heat carried you away.

Nothing was open in the sleepy town as he walked through it, but he finally found a small inn and banged on the door. An annoyed innkeeper, woken from their sleep, looked at the three of you and sighed, he couldn't leave a woman and baby out on the street, not when the bright red sunrise signalled the oncoming storm. Red sky in morning, sailor's warning. Heat paid handsomely for the inconvenience, renting a crib from the owner, who thankfully had children of his own and was able to provide a few diapers and baby wipes to tide you through till the stores opened, even if they were a touch too big for the small baby.

While the crib was set up you unwrapped the baby, seeing for the first time just how poorly she looked, though her tummy was nice and round from the milk you'd provided. You did what you could to clean and redress her without stirring her from her deep sleep, placing her in the bare crib. You'd asked the innkeeper for blankets, but he assured you that babies were safer sleeping without, and had instead helped you swaddle the little one to keep her warm. There was a strange, awkward silence as he left, just you and Heat left in the room, sitting at the end of the bed side by side and staring at the sleeping baby, who you'd discovered upon unwrapping had a small tuft of blond hair.

“Why did you do that?” You asked softly.

“Do I need to say it?” He replied. You shook your head and took his hand. You knew why. Because he loved you, even though he still lacked the courage to say it out loud. His actions told you everything you needed to know.

“Do you think they'll leave?” You asked him.

“Nah,” he squeezed your hand, “logpose needed three days to reset. They'll cool down and beg us to come home, they care too much. And if they don't, fuck em, you're all I need”

You leaned your tired body against his side and let out a long sigh.

“Let's get you to bed, you must be exhausted,” he picked you up again and slid you under the covers before climbing in next to you. He held you gingerly, aware that you were still recovering and your breasts were tender. “No matter what, I'm here. For you, and the baby. If it's between Kid and you, I'm choosing you”

You sobbed at his reassurances, not once had Killer ever said he would choose you over Kid, in fact he'd always made it clear that Kid was his priority. Your heart swelled for Heat, whether it be genuine or saviour's complex you didn't care, you just knew you were finally falling for him. If only it'd happened months ago, if only you'd given yourself to him more fully, or if maybe he'd been trapped on the island with you. Things could have been so different. Your heart still felt like it was tearing apart, but under Heat's warm embrace you felt like in time it could melt back together.

“Does she have a name?” Heat asked when your crying finally calmed.

“Dawn,” you replied softly.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #heat one piece #heat x reader #kid pirates

48 notes · View notes

burning-spyce · 1 month ago

Text

« Your destruction shall be

my greatest pleasure! »

ʚ˚₊‧ 🔥 ꒱꒱Hiya‼️⊹˚˖

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

[23 / xe they / ENFJ / ENG+ESP ok !]

-ˋ₊˚. Here comes my super, duper late intro post ! 💥💥 || I'm Itzamna (or Itza / Sol) , an agender Mexican-native 🇲🇽 who doodles, writes, and makes edits. Cookie Run is one of my longtime special interests and so a blog was made to dump aplenty ! I'm also autistic so there WILL be rambles from time to time. — Alongside, most of my content consists of writings, selfship/oc x canon content !!✨ (YIPPEEE!!)

// ❤️‍🔥 I love Burning Spice very, very much 'n he might be most of what I put on here, whoops. That being said, I'm an avid self/yumeshipper if you couldn't tell, and I’ve done it for as long as I could remember, jeje! It was love at first sight and we've been together since. 💛💛 I plan on marrying him soon, but we've gotten officially married in-universe !~

My main art blog is @hastugorath 🐙 , and I interact from there ❕❕— I'm currently trying to balance both but the cookie run brainrot is EXTREME... So I may be a lot more active on here to pour my heart out about silly cookies. (Most importantly my husband.) 💕

I can be a little shy but I’m open to making friends and interacting with others! Feel free to tag me in things or send me asks ! ! ^^

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

ʚ˚₊‧ 🌶 kin list & about my selfship ‼️➥

misc. yumeship info ;

🌺 pairing ; Burning Spice x Aji Pepper

🔆 ship name ; Potent Ardor-ation, a play on their spicy inspirations, strong fiery bond, and a pun on the words ‘ardor’ and ‘adoration’! / Or just BurningPepper !!~

🌺 ship icon ; ⚔️🌺 / 🗝️🌋

🔆 relationship ; ROMANTIC ‼️ 💛

🌺 sharing ❔️ ; non-sharing 🔐❕️❕️RAAAH❕️❕️

*non-shares harder than other non-sharers...* >:)))

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

ʚ˚₊‧ 🌶 stamps n stuff ‼️➥

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

ʚ˚₊‧ 🌶 asks, reqs, and more‼️

Asks: 🟢 || open , taking general asks or about ocs !

Requests: ⛔️ || not yet !

Commissions: ⚪️ || on hold til I build my portfolio & set things up!

DMs: 🟢 || mutuals, frens, sure !!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

✦⌇༉‧₊˚ BYI ❕️

This is not a gimmick blog or satire, I really love Burning Spice, and he's a big comfort character for me!

My social battery runs out pretty quickly so I may go inactive for short periods of time and struggle to respond to dms/asks or requests ! I apologize / please don't take it personally, I'll answer as soon as I can! ^^

I’m pretty forgetful so if I take a while to respond to something don’t hesitate me to give me a gentle nudge or two!

I may need tone tags sometimes, but I'm alright without 'em depending!

✦⌇༉‧₊˚ DNI 🚫

Basic dni criteria; proship, zoo, anything of the phobics or gross. I don't want p3d0s, z00s, or any of the sort interacting w my blog, you WILL be blocked ‼️

Doubles!!! Or those who self-ship with Burning Spice, or ship him with ocs. I'm alright with some canon x canon ships with him, but he's mine teehee,, 😻 /lh /j.— Also those who are anti-selfship or fun. If you don't like my blog, just block pls ! ^_^

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

25 notes · View notes

souliebird · 4 months ago

Text

[[last call for sinners]]

fandom: Kin (AMC) pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Rating : explicit tags: Dom/Sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Subspace, P in V sex word count: 8k Summary: The weight of the world feels like it is on Michael's shoulders and you are there to make sure he doesn't crumble under it

The weight of the world feels like it's on Michael's shoulders even when it shouldn't be.

Business is good. Anna texted him earlier without prompt. No one's been going at each other. He hasn't had an episode in a while.

Things are Good.

But his shoulders and neck are tight, his nightmares are flaring up again, and little things keep irritating him. It feels like something is winding up right inside of him, getting ready to explode. He feels trapped.

Even walking back to his house after a fantastic dinner with Birdy, he feels like he's sinking into the earth, waiting for it to swallow him whole.

He turns the corner and sees your bike parked in his driveway, hidden from the street by the wall.

Part of him wants to turn around, go back to Birdy's so he doesn't drag you don't into his darkness. But he's selfish, so very selfish, and he doesn't want to be alone in the dark and you are such a bright light.

Michael goes to you like a moth drawn to a flame, unlocking the door and calling out for you.

"Here," is the response from the sitting room. It still feels like he can't pick up his feet, trudging through mud to get to you.

You're sitting on the couch, looking like you just came from work. One elegant leg is crossed over the other and you are typing away on your phone.

"How long have ya been waiting, love?"

You look up at him with your eyes slightly narrowed and like you're about to lecture him and he freezes in his spot.

If anyone else gave him that look, he'd put them in their place.

But with you, you and that look and how he feels, he bows his head just a fraction. You don't say anything, just keep him pinned to his spot with your gaze. Until you tilt your head to the side just a fraction.

The air is squeezed from his lungs and Michael drops to his knees.

You finally put your phone to the side and uncross your legs with an exaggerated slowness. His mouth goes dry as he watches you stand. You take your time, smoothing out your dress before you walk around the coffee table to him.

The only sound is the clicking of your heels.

He keeps his eyes on your face and you don't look anywhere but his.

You stop in front of him, looking down at him with that same hard look. You reach out and cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb along his beard. He can't help but close his eyes and lean into the touch.

It's like a tether, keeping him grounded and stable, your touch.

"My sweet puppy," your voice low, just barely a whisper. He doesn't dare open his eyes. "Look at the state of you. Lost in that handsome mind of yours." You turn your hand just slightly so you can scritch your nail across his jaw.

He swallows a moan.

"What do you think will happen if I let you stay down this path, hmm? How dark will those thoughts go? Do you think it will be anything good, Michael?"

"No, ma'am."

"I don't think so either and I don't like the thought of anything not good happening to MY puppy. And you are mine , right, Michael?"

"Yes, ma'am."

You give a pleased hum and it sends a shiver down his spine. You continue to drag your nails along his beard and he's so glad you asked him to grow it out. He presses into your hand more.

"That's right. So I think I'll bring you back where you belong."

Michael turns his head so he can kiss at your palm, "Thank ya."

You allow him to nuzzle and kiss at your palm for a moment before pressing your index and middle finger under his chin, guiding his head up. He opens his eyes to look up at you.

He feels so so heavy and he knows you know, the way your eyes dance over his face.

"Let's go upstairs, pup."

He stands up from kneeling, your fingers staying under his chin until he is at full height, then tracing down his arm to take his hand. You give his fingers a light squeeze then turn and walk towards the staircase. He follows, letting you guide him across the room and up the stairs.

Michael doesn't know what he's done to deserve you, to deserve this. You always know when he falls too deep into the dark, even when he says nothing. No one sees him like you do - not Jimmy or Amanda or Birdy. You know what he needs even when he doesn't know.

"I can hear you thinking, Michael," you say, giving his hand another squeeze.

He doesn't respond, he knows he doesn't need to with you, but he does tighten his grip on your hand. He doesn't want you to let go. He needs you to anchor him.

You lead him into his bedroom, to the foot of the bed and you turn to face him without letting go of his hand. He doesn't feel like he's under a microscope when you run your eyes from his head to his feet. It's almost comforting knowing he can't hide anything from you.

"Take off your clothes," you order, letting go of his hand to run your fingers back up his arm and placing your hand in the middle of his chest.

He knows he nods, he just doesn't process it. You drop your hand from him as he peels out of his Henley. He drops it to the ground and goes for his belt next.

His heart starts beating a little faster when you step away from him. He doesn't want you to leave him. He needs you.

He needs you.

He steps after you, just to match the one step you took away from him. You watch him with those sharp eyes and it makes his throat go tight. You told him to do something and he's not doing it.

Instead of an order or a reprimand, your eyes soften and a fond little sigh escapes your lips.

"Oh, my poor puppy. You really need this, don't you?" He doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't. You touch his cheek again and he presses into it so hard one of you might lose balance. "Help me out of this dress. After you finish doing what I already told you to do."

You keep your hand on him as he pushes his pants and briefs off as quick as he can, having to kick off his shoes mid process. He manages to get his socks off as well, and in less than five seconds, he's nude and half hard in front of you.

You rake your eyes over him again before dropping your hand again and turning so your back faces him. Your hair is already tied up in a bun, so it's easy for him to find the hidden zipper of your dress and drag it down.

The sheath dress falls off your shoulders and to the ground and Michael is surprised to see nothing under the dress.

His cock twitches with interest as he remembers you rode your bike here.

As much as he doesn't want to, he keeps his hands to himself.

You step out of the dress and face him again, now only in your high heels.

You start to walk past him, beckoning him to follow with a finger. He's at your heel as you head into the bathroom.

Two towels are already set out and he can't help licking his lips. You've planned all this - what you're going to do to him and he just wants to melt into it. Let you take control.

God, he needs it so much. You're too good for him.

He waits as you turn on the shower, watching as you test the water with your hand. Once it's how hot you want it, you glance over to him. All it takes is a look and he knows what you want.

He goes into the shower, hissing as the spray hits him. It's scorching hot but feels good against his shoulders. He tilts his head down so it centers on the back of his neck, hoping for some relief from the tension.

You step out of your heels and into the shower behind him, your hands going to his shoulders and smoothing down his back. Michael shudders under your touch.

You don't speak as you run your hands over him, digging your nails in just enough that he can feel them. He closes his eyes and tries to focus solely on your touch.The shower feels like a cage, closing in around him. The spray is so loud in his ears and he doesn't like the feeling of the water clinging to his beard, weighing his head down more. Everything is just so much, except for your fingers on skin. They start going higher, dancing up his neck and teasing the ends of his hair.

He doesn't know if seconds pass or hours, but eventually, you start wetting his hair, combing through it until it's slicked back. He hears you uncap a bottle and a moment later you are massaging product into his scalp. You coat his hair in it, then start digging your thumbs into the base of his skull. He leans back into it, inhaling steam into his lungs as he does.

Whatever you are using isn't his normal shampoo. There's a hint of mint to it - nothing overwhelming. He rather likes it. It reminds him of the tea you drink in the mornings - when it's just you and him before everyone else wakes up. When the world is quiet.

When he knows he's happy.

When he knows you're happy.

As you wash his hair, Michael feels the stiffness start to bleed out of his shoulders.

It never feels this good when he showers. You're using your nails and rubbing in little circles and he swears you must be a witch because it's not just the tightness in his body you're washing away, the tightness in his chest is fading. For the first time in hours, it feels like he can breathe.

He lets himself inhale through his nose.

Behind him, you give a pleased purr, "That's my good pup. Let me take care of you. Be good for me. Let go."

Michael hums in response. Letting go would be nice, wouldn't it? He trusts you - the only person outside his family he trusts. You're the only person who's seen him like this - this vulnerable. Others think they have, but they haven't. They haven't come close.

You kiss his shoulder then gently tilt his head back so you can rinse his hair out. It feels nice, the warm water with your fingers. He likes it when you run your fingers through his hair. You only do it when you're alone together, so it's become a little special to him. You always make him feel special.

He doesn't know if he makes you feel special. You put up with so much shite for him. He doesn't do nearly enough for you.

He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve this.

"Shhh, none of that, now," you say, dropping your hand to his shoulders and nudging him to face you. He turns and you put your hands on his shoulders again - stepping forward. He steps back until he's pressed against the shower wall. You stop in front of him. You cup the side of his head and guide it to the nape of your neck. He buries his face into you, arms starting to shake from emotion and restraint.

"You can touch, pup," you whisper into his hair.

Before you even finish giving permission, Michael's arms are around you, clinging to you.

You resume running your fingers through his hair as tears start sliding down his cheeks. He doesn't sob or shake, it's a sort of quiet release. It doesn't hurt and he's not angry - he just breathes deeply through it, letting it happen.

You're holding him. You choose him. You don't sneer or run away. You know who he is - what he is.

He wants to be yours so badly.

And you call him yours.

You slide your free hand between you and wrap it around his cock.

He didn't realize how hard he was and it makes him whimper.

You start to stroke him, from the base, achingly slow up his shaft until you get to his head, which you squeeze just perfectly before starting back down again. Michael groans into your shoulder, dropping his hands so he can squeeze your waist. You tug at his hair a little and he nuzzles against your neck in apology.

You graciously accept and continue dragging your nails over his scalp. You pump his cock at a slow but steady pace.

You're breathing into his ear. All he can smell is mint and you. All he can feel is you - your hands touching the most vulnerable parts of him, your body against his. He darts his tongue out so he can taste the salt on your skin. He wants to be consumed by you.

He is consumed by you.

You cradle him as you stroke him over and Michael is completely lost in the sensations. He wants to stay here like this for however long you will allow. To him, there's nothing outside your arms.

It is you and him.

He wants all of you. He wants to give himself all of you.

You kiss the shell of his ear as you work over his cock and Michael moans your name.

You respond by squeezing at his base, "Being so good for me, Pup. Always so good for me." He shivers at the praise, desperately needing it, needing you. He presses his face more into your neck, tightens his hold on your hips, and even attempts to shuffle impossibly closer. You're practically flush against each other.

"Let me take care of you," you purr against him and he nods, not really processing the words. He trusts whatever you're saying. He trusts you. He needs you.

You press another kiss to his ear, then let go of his cock. An upset noise comes from the back of his throat and you gently shush him again. He rubs his cheek against your shoulder, needing more of you touching him.

"Don't you want this, puppy?" You breathe into his ear, tugging his head by the hair enough he lifts his head up to not be completely hidden against you. You press two fingers against his lips and smear something on them.

It's your own arousal and he greedily sucks your fingers into his mouth, wanting to taste you.

The fact you want this, want him when he's like this, makes his own arousal even more intense. It's a heady feeling, at the base of his skull where you're petting him, and wrapping around his mind like a fog. But it's you, you're the fog, wrapping him up in all of you and it's not anything he wants to fight.

You're taking care of him. You always take care of him.

He wants to take care of you. Be good for you.

Be good to you.

"I think it's time to get out of the shower, puppy," you hum, pulling your fingers from his mouth. He tries to follow them, but the hand in his hair keeps him in place. "You need to put that mouth to good use."

His cock twitches so hard he can feel it and he nods, licking his lips for a lingering taste of you.

"Please?" He asks, his own voice sounding far away to his ears.

You know him so well because you don't let go of him to turn off the shower. Instead of hanging onto his hair, you take his hand again and step away. He doesn't cling. You're not leaving him.

He holds onto your hand and leans back against the cool tile wall. He manages to open his eyes to watch you. You placed the towels so you wouldn't have to leave the shower to get them and when you fully return to him, one is in your hand.

You squeeze his fingers before letting go so you can use both hands to start drying his hair off. He tips his head forward so it's easier for you and for a few moments the towel blocks his vision of you.

It makes his heart flutter nervously, but you are still there. He can feel your hands rubbing around his head through the towel and he can see your feet are only centimeters from his, but you don't have skin to skin contact and he doesn't like that.

But he has to be good for you. He has to be, so he stares hard at a bead of water dripping down your leg.

As he starts to feel his breathing get heavy, you flip the part of the towel covering his face up and back, so it's folded over his head.

You cup both of his cheeks and bring him forward so his forehead is touching yours.

"There's my puppy," you say, a soft little smile on your lips. You look so relaxed and happy and you're touching him again. He feels himself smile back at you as a pleasant calm settles over him again. You reward him with a feather light kiss to the cheek.

You once again take his hand and step out of the shower. He follows, looking down to where you are connected. Your fingers are hooked around his, thumb ghosting over his knuckles.The small comforts you give him make his head spin - he doesn't understand how you always know what he needs.

And right now, Michael needs you.

You lead him back to the bed and with your free hand, point to the ground. He kneels down slower this time, keeping a hold of your hand and nuzzling into it once on the floor. You turn your hand so you can pet his cheek, smoothing your thumb over his skin. He leans into it, tilting his head up to look up at you.

"I have something for you," you purr.

A questioning noise comes from deep in his throat. You hum, your lips turning up into a pretty little smirk. You scritch his chin and step back slowly. He doesn't like you stepping away, but he trusts you to come back. He doesn't want the buzzing in his head to fade.

He doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts. Not like this.

He closes his eyes and waits, because he doesn't want to see you walk away from him.

"You've been so good to me, so good for me, I thought you deserved a little treat. Something special."

He listens to your voice as you go to the closet. You rustle around briefly, then you are back in front of him in a few steps.

Michael opens his eyes when you touch his cheek again. You're holding a slim but large black jewelry box and he doesn't understand how it could be for him. He furrows his brows, tilting his head a little in question and you just smile down at him.

You tilt the box so he has the perfect view as you slowly reveal what is inside. Laying on a bed of deep green velvet are two pieces of matching jewelry.

In the center is a watch. It's sleek and all black and he knows by the brand it is an expensive model. It's a luxury piece, but it isn't showy. It's subtle. He doesn't know a lot about watches, but it's beautiful - it's something he would have picked out for himself if he was in the market for a luxury watch.

Resting around the watch is a necklace - a thick black chain with an O ring in the middle. Like the watch, he can tell it's an expensive piece.

It's not a collar you would have bought down at the local sex shop.

Because it is a collar. You're presenting him with a collar and it is making his mind spin.

He wants to be yours so badly, to submit himself to you fully, but a collar is a lot. He knows it is a lot and his Pride wants to fight it. He can't even imagine what his family would say.

But he wants to wear it for you. You got it for him and you want him to be Yours and that thought alone has his cock weeping.

"Can I put it on you?"

Michael nods, his mouth going dry and throat going tight.

He wants it. If he doesn't like it, he trusts you to remove it, he knows you will, but he wants to feel it around his neck. He wants to know what it feels like to be truly yours.

You place the box on the bed so you can lift the collar up. It feels like he's watching you in slow motion and all he can focus on is your fingers around the chair.

He wants them on his skin instead.

There's no closure on the collar and it just barely slips over his head. You rest it around his neck and the O-ring rests just above his collar bone. It's heavy, much heavier than he expected it to be. It's not a weight he'd be able to ignore - he'll always know it's there.

He'll always know he belongs to you. That you want him. That you need him in the same way he needs you. That despite everything he has done, everything you've seen about him, you still choose him.

His fingers shake as he reaches up to feel where the chain rests. It's so cool against his hot skin. It sits loosely, not constructing his neck or making it hard to breathe. It feels Good.

His attention is pulled away from the collar as you remove the watch from the gift box. You hold out your hand in front of his face and it takes a moment to process what you want from him.

Michael places his left hand in yours and you slip the watch onto his wrist. It's heavy like the collar - he won't forget it's there.

"The collar," you hum, latching the watch so it's snug, "is for just us, but this is for always, my pup. So you always know you are mine, every hour of every day."

You bend down so you are face to face and cup his in both of your hands, smoothing your thumbs over his beard, "what do you think, Puppy? Do you like what I got you?"

He doesn't know how to answer. His throat is getting tighter and burning and he wants to scream and cry because _yes_ . He loves what you got him. So very very much. He just doesn't know how to express it. It's all too much and not enough. He tries to give a shaky nod, but all he manages to do is press his face into your palms with a whimper.

It isn't until you kiss away his tears does Michael realize he's crying.

You brush your nose over his and part of him wants to just bury his face into your shoulder again.

You have other plans for him - one hand wraps around his cock again and it sends a full body shudder through him. You use the heel of your hand to smear precum over the head of his cock, teasing with the pressure but not giving him the pleasure. His hips start twitching and he wants so much to fuck up into your hand.

But he wants to be good for you, so good, deserve his collar and what you do to him, so he tries his best to not move. He closes his eyes and lets you consume him again.

It's easy for him to sink into your light. The buzzing and headyness are taking over his skull again and it's just as good as any high he's ever had. All other sensations are lost and all Michael feels is your hands on him and the cool metal hanging around his neck.

It's perfect. It's so fucking perfect and good and you finally, finally, curl your fingers around him again and pump. The tightness is coiling in his belly and his thighs are starting to shake.

He's so close.

He's so close but then you take your hand away again and he wants to sob.

You start to stand again, but you lean in so you bump against him as you raise. Your chin brushes his nose, then your sternum, and Michael groans and leans a little bit forward so his lips drag over your stomach. When you're fully standing, your cunt is just in front of him.

His cock is so hard and leaking everywhere but none of it matters - not when you're asking this of him.

Michael tilts his head back, and he feels like he's praying up to you.

"Please?"

You put your leg over his shoulder, and using the hand still cupping his cheek, guide him to your core.

Your cunt is dripping wet and Michael wastes no time burying his face into you.

"Good boy," you moan, pushing your hand up to thread your fingers through his hair. Your grip is tight, but he doesn't care because he's where he should be. Where he wants to be.

He rubs his nose over your clit a few times before nuzzling down. He just wants to breathe in deeply but he's so greedy that he can't wait and buries his tongue inside you.

You tug him even closer into you and he reaches up one arm to wrap around the leg on his shoulder. His fingers dig into your thigh, half to cling desperately to you, half to help hold you up. The hand not holding onto his hair drops to hold onto his arm and your nails bite into his flesh.

Michael eats you out like a man starving because that is what he is. He's starving for you. Your juices are soaking into his beard and all he cares about is More.

More of you. More for you. More You.

If you want to ride his face until the sun rises tomorrow, then he will be on his knees all night for you.

He fucks his tongue in and out of you, wanting to prove you aren't wrong to want him. He wants to show you how good he can be for you.

You're the one who deserves to cum, not him.

You start to grind your cunt into Michael's mouth. His other hand shoots up to grab onto your hip, encouraging the motions. He wants you to use him. He wants to beg for it but that would mean removing his mouth from you, and that's something he won't do unless you direct it. He's yours and he will do whatever you ask, and right now you want his mouth on your cunt.

He drinks greedily from you, helping you keep balance as you use him. It's not harsh, you're enjoying him. Your soft breathy moans are going straight through him and his cock twitches hard with each one.

He dares to open his eyes. You're looking down at him, looking blissed out as he feels.

He moans loudly when he feels your legs start to shake and tightens his grip on your hip and thigh, pulling you even closer. You hunch over him and you push your hand through his hair to the back of his neck. You start to grip the hairs there, but then your hand drops and grabs onto his collar.

You yank on it and Michael's vision goes white.

It feels like he's fucking floating. His toes are curled so tightly it hurts but in a fucked up good way.

He knows your legs give out and you crumble into his lap, and the sudden change causes him to topple you both over, but it's like he's not aware of it. All his fucked out mind thinks is he can press his face into your neck again.

You roll so both of you are on your sides, legs tangled together. You move his arms so they are wrapping around you loosely, then cradle his head to your neck. He hugs himself to you on instinct and buries his face into you.

You hold him, one hand cupping the back of his neck, still holding the collar, the other tracing up and down his back.

He can feel it, on the edge of his haze, the soothing motions of your fingers. Part of him wants to give into the haze, follow it until he falls asleep. It's such a strong urge.

But he wants to be with you more. Like this. Wrapped in each other, nothing else in the world mattering.

He can feel you smiling against his temple.

He did that. He made you smile like that - from his mouth, his hands, his actions.

He just feels warmth radiating through him.

He doesn't know how long you lay there on the floor, but eventually his hip starts to hurt and that pulls his mind away from the lazy way you were petting his spine.

Michael turns his head so he can kiss your cheek while rolling you onto your back. Once he's over you, he presses his forehead to yours and smiles sleepily down at you. You return his smile with your own.

"Hey there," you whisper, stopping your motions so you can cup his jaw. "How're you feeling?"

He gives a pleased hum in response and nuzzles his nose against yours. Your smile grows and you close your eyes.

You just barely put pressure on his jaw and guide him down to kiss you.

It's slow. He still feels calm and hazy and he wants to stay in it a bit longer with you. You're on the same page as him - you keep the kiss nice and lazy.

You hum against his lips and he pulls back just enough so you can speak, "Don't think I'm done with you yet."

"Yeah?" He asks, starting to pepper sweet kisses over your cheeks and chin. You melt under him, just a little bit, giving a happy sigh.

He takes the opportunity to start kissing down your jaw to your neck. He starts sucking a mark into you and you tilt your head to give him more access. It is a gift and he treats it as such, taking his time to enjoy you. The salt on your skin tastes so good on his tongue, where it's mixed with your juices. He lives for this raw essence of you.

Michael starts to slide down you, intent on getting your nipple into his mouth, but you give the faintest tug on the chain around his neck. His head snaps up to look at you.

You're looking at him through your lashes, a hint of amusement in your pretty eyes.

"The floor isn't very comfortable, Michael," you tease, dropping your hand away from him.

He licks his lips and pushes himself up so he is kneeling between your legs. As he stands, he helps you up and as soon as you are in front of him, his hands go to your waist. You loop your arms around his shoulders while leaning forward so he is supporting your weight.

"Can I take ya to bed?"

You push up on your toes so you can give him a sweet peck on the lips, before whispering against him, "No."

Michael furrows his brows, confused. You kiss him again.

"But since you've been so good, I'll let you follow me into it."

You drag your nails across his back as you step away from him, stretching your arms out to put distance between you. He doesn't want that, so he tightens his grip on you and closes the gap, stepping into your space again.

You smirk at his silent challenge. You hook a finger through the O-ring around his neck and lean in until your lips are barely brushing his.

"I said I'm not done with you, yet, Michael Kinsella. Don't make me change my mind."

He feels his cock start to twitch back to life with that and can't help the grin starting to spread across his face.

"So how do ya want me?"

You tilt your head towards the bed and he huffs a little laugh, "Aye." He drops his hands from you and lets you go to the bed. You sit on the mattress, then scoot back until you're fully on it and at the head of the bed.

Michael waits until you are settled then climbs onto the bed and kneels by your feet. You lazily drag your eyes over him, sizing him up like you plan to devour him.

You probably do.

He's already half hard at the thought.

He wants to lean in and kiss you. He wants to show you how thankful he is for you, what you have done for him, but as you said, you aren't done with him, yet.

Michael's more alert now - the feelings of drowning in his thoughts long gone and the wonderful drop you gave him fading away. He wants you. He wants you in every way you'll allow him.

He's yours, heart and soul and body, and you are his. He wants to remind the world of that. He wants to mark you and fill you and claim you in every way that matters - to the world, to his family, to you.

You lounge there, like you are waiting for him to make a move, but he won't. You told him to behave and even though he's itching to do just the opposite, he'll do as he's told.

Michael's usually the one more in charge in the bedroom and this dynamic is still new and he doesn't want to mess it up. He didn't know how much he needed it until you proposed putting him on his knees and now he doesn't know if he could live without it. He wants to be your Pup, now and forever.

You turn from him and arrange the pillows so you can lean back and be slightly propped up as well. You take your time with it and he enjoys just watching you, even if it is a tease.

You finally lay back and relax into the pillows. You go back to looking him up and down and while you do, you spread your legs.

Michael leans forward so he can crawl on his hands and knees around your leg to get around it. He can't help but smile up at you.

You reach for him and he very eagerly goes to you. You once again guide him towards you. He keeps his hands on the bed as he leans in to kiss you.

"Woof," he whispers as your lips meet.

You huff in fondness before he surges in to deepen the kiss. You melt under him, parting your lips for him and sinking down into your pillows, but he knows better than to think he's in charge. He just needs to be closer to you and you're allowing it.

Michael resists the urge to grind his hips against yours. He's already worked up again, cock bobbing against his stomach, but he wants to take his time getting you to the same level. He's yours, and he'll do whatever you desire, but after you did such a good job caring for him, he wants to return the favor.

He kisses down to your neck, nipping lightly as he does. It earns him a pleased sigh. Your fingers find their way to his hair, carding through it again. He's careful to not leave more marks, not because you don't like them, but because you haven't given him the permission again.

Right now he just wants to touch and feel and be Yours.

He bends his elbows so he can kiss down your chest without putting any of his weight on you. He nuzzles at your breasts, teasing your nipples with his tongue, but continues his path down instead of latching onto them. Michael wants his face between your thighs again and he doesn't want to wait. You don't redirect him, just drag your nails over his skull.

"Yer fuckin' perfect," he whispers as he lowers himself to lay on the covers. You put your legs over his shoulders and he turns his head so he can kiss your inner thigh, unable to stop the smile forming on his lips. He drags his lips down until he can nose at your slit.

You're still so very wet given neither of you even attempted to clean up. He makes sure to get your juices all over his mouth, in his mouth. He wants to waste none of it, and once he's licked it all up, he finally starts towards your clit. You give a little whine when he first nudges it and part of him wants to tease, listen to all your pleading little noises because he's so addicted to them, but the weight of the chain hanging from his neck reminds him of his place.

Michael finally sucks your bud into his mouth and the moan you give is music to his ears. He wants so badly to make you fall apart, to thank you for pulling him out of the darkness he was starting to drown in.

"Michael," you gasp, arching your back just slightly and he has to resist grinding into the sheets like a teenager.

He squirms a little to get more comfortable, repositioning his arms to hold your hips up just enough where he has the perfect angle to worship your cunt without making his neck ache.

And worship Michael does.

You grip his hair just enough he can feel it but it doesn't hurt and when he does something you like, your fingers curl and you scratch his head. He knows it's developing into something for him, because every time you do it his dick jumps.

Between the two of you, his comforter is going to be soaked with your juices and his pre-cum.

He growls at the thought and pulls you closer. You moan, digging your heels into his shoulder blades so you can push your hips up.

He gets up into a kneel, gripping your hips to raise you up with him. Your knees go over his shoulders and he slides one hand to the small of your back to hold you up. You gasp at the sudden change but trust him to hold you up. Your thighs start to shake around his head.

"Fuck, Princess," Michael groans when you rock into mouth.

The hand not holding you up comes up over your belly and down to your clit. His thumb takes over for his mouth and he starts to fuck you with his tongue.

You taste so fucking good and your noises are just spurring him on.

Your hand is so tight in his hair in the most perfect of ways. It's keeping him right against your cunt. He couldn't ask for anything more perfect. You are starting to pant and gasp. Your walls are pulsing around him and all he can do is chase your noises.

For the second time that night you come on his tongue. He only pulls away when you tug at his hair.

Despite how Hungry he is for you and his cock being so hard he feels like he wants to scream, he lowers you down to the bed with all the care in the world.

He kisses your calf as he removes it from his shoulder.

You relax into the bed, twisting a little to stretch out, a happy smile on your lips - enjoying the afterglow of your orgasm. He drinks in the sight of you and it makes his heart soar.

You look so fucking beautiful and when you smile up at him, his brain just tells him to get closer to you.

Michael crawls forward until he can oh so gently kiss your lips.

"Good boy," you purr, cupping his jaw and using your thumb to pet his cheek. "My good boy."

"I need ya, Princess," he says, pressing into your touch, "please let me have ya. Need to feel ya around my cock. Need all of ya."

You hum against him then take his bottom lip between your teeth to tease before releasing again, "Need you, too. Fuck me, Michael. Fuck me like you mean it."

He doesn't need to be told twice.

He reaches between you so he can guide his cock to your opening. He rubs his head over your slit, getting himself nice and slick with your juices before starting to sink into you.

You're so perfectly tight and start squeezing around him before he can fully sheath himself in you.

"Gonna cum if ya keep that up," Michael grinds out, trying to keep control of himself. He wants to bury himself in you, but he doesn't want to hurt you.

"Want that, Puppy," you pull him back into a sweet kiss and you're biting at his lips again, "Want you to fill me up 'til it's leaking out of me. Want you to fuck me 'til there's nothing left in you to pump into me. Hear me? Can you do that for me, Puppy?"

Michael swears and rocks the rest of the way into you, only to pull back out halfway so he can slam back into you.

You want to be fucked and nothing is going to keep him from giving you just that.

The pace he sets is brutal.

But it's what you want and as he fucks you, you push the pillows down the bed until they are under your hips. The angle changes and he can bury himself even deeper into you. He growls out your name, tilting his hips as he pounds into you until his cock starts dragging across that sweet spot inside you.

"Right there, Michael, puppy, my puppy, right there," you start to chant, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him deep in you.

He nods, sweat starting to drip down his face and arms. "Whatever ya want, love, I'm yours. Yours," he pants, words just falling out of him.

One of your hands grips onto his bicep, nails digging into his flesh so hard it sends jolts down his spine. He gives a hard thrust in response and you cry out again. Your walls are squeezing him, pulling him deeper into you, and he just wants more.

He needs to feel you come undone around him.

Michael's hand goes to your throat, wrapping around it and squeezing.

Your entire body goes rigid as your orgasm rips through you. The headboard bounces off the wall repeatedly as he fucks you through it, but the loud thuds are covered by you screaming his name.

You're going to wake the whole damn neighborhood and the mere idea of it gives him a third wind.

He wants everyone to hear you. To know what he does to you. What you bring out of him.

Michael is so lost in you, in making you feel like you're on another world, he doesn't notice your hands go up to his shoulders until you grab onto him. With a sudden movement, you roll, flipping your positions so he is under you. You snatch the wrist of the hand around your throat and pin it to the bed right above his head, that hungry hungry look back in your eyes.

He is still inside you somehow and you purposefully squeeze around him. He rolls his head back with a loud groan, "Fuck, pet. Are ya trying to kill me?"

You drag your nails down his chest, digging in enough to leave angry red scratches. Michael hisses, the pain making his dick twitch inside you. You lean down so you can bump your nose against his, a wicked smile playing across your lips, and whisper against his lips, "I'm not your pet tonight, Michael. You're mine."

He almost loses it right then, needing to close his eyes tightly so he doesn't come before you are through with him.

"Put your other hand up, Puppy. Can't have you touching me again without my say so."

He easily obeys, throwing his other hand above his head. You cross his wrists and pushing them down into the bed with one hand.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, having to focus so he doesn't buck up inside of you.

Your other hand crawls up and you press it down on his throat, enough he can feel the weight of you, but there is no danger of you hurting him.

You so very slowly start to swirl your hips and Michael throws his head back. You know just how to work him - taking your time in teasing him. You're keeping him fully in you, just grinding your cunt against him. It is completely agonizing in the best of ways. He could spend forever like this and be over the moon with it.

Your lips brush his as you begin to speak in a hushed but authoritative tone.

"You belong to me, Michael Kinsella. Isn't that what you promised me?"

He tries his best to nod, but your hand keeps him in his place, "Aye, yes, I did. I promised ya. I'm yours. I'm yours."

You bite his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

His thighs start to shake. It's taking Everything in him to not flip you over and fuck you into the mattress.

"What was the condition? What was the condition that I get to put Michael Fuckin' Kinsella on his knees and call him My Puppy?"

"That ya be Mine. I needed ya to be mine."

"So make me yours, Michael."

He flips you over and fucks you into the mattress.

He buries his hands into your hair, gripping it and tugging enough to make you cry out again. You squeeze around him and he nearly sees stars.

He smashes your lips together and all teeth and hunger and Possessive.

You're his.

You've seen all of him, every side of him, the happy, the sad, the anger, the blankness, the coked out of his mind, and quiet somber mornings. You've seen him beaten with a bat and held him after he spent the nights taking lives.

And you're still his.

"Michael, please!"

Your cunt clenches around him and you start to milk him as he starts to spill into you. He fucks you until he's completely spent, then all of his strength leaves him and he collapses down onto you.

You catch him with a happy little noise and bury your nose into his hair.

He still has enough awareness to pull out of you and roll over onto the bed so he won't crush you. You tuck yourself against him, throwing your arm over his chest and resting your head there with the most content sigh. He wraps his arm around you, holding you close against him.

The moment he closes his eyes, Michael knows he's going to be asleep. When he looks down at you, he sees you are almost there. You look so peaceful and happy and it makes his heart soar.

He presses his lips to your forehead.

"Thank ya, Princess."

You tilt your head up, eyes just cracking open and smile up at him.

"Thank you, Puppy."

And that's all you need to say between you.

You close your eyes at the same time as Michael and he drifts off without a single thought.

a/n: I posted this previously but realized i never posted it on tumblr, so im throwing it out there while I'm unable to write for ATIMY.

#soulie writes #fanfiction #kin #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #repost #i never posted it to tumblr

30 notes · View notes

gastlygallows · 24 days ago

Text

Void Ascension

Chapter 1/2 (AO3)

Pairing: Aegon/Reader, Aemond/Reader (this chapter is Aegon/Reader w/ the action but Aemond wants you and he watches!)

Rating: 🔞🔞🔞

Words: 3,000

Warnings: Mildly dubious consent, getting drunk, breeding kink, canon compliant characterization

Summary: You are a dragonseed whose dragon one day fell out of the sky, granting you the miracle of being taken in by the royal family. The king and his brother already have entirely separate plans for you.

Notes: Takes place after Blood and Cheese but before Rook's Rest. Please see the AO3 for other notes/tags or feel free to dive on in ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

Aegon stares at you from the guest room doorway with his arms crossed, his violet eyes scanning you up and down like a passage he keeps reading over and over without retaining a word.

“Tell me,” he says, half drunk from nightly binges, nodding at you. “How many sons do you think it would take to give me one with white hair?”

Aemond sits on the chaise chair across from you, picking up a half empty chalice of wine on the table and taking a drink with a long, agitated sigh.

The question hangs in the air.

Your jaw hangs open, unsure if you'd heard the king correctly.

Aegon raises his eyebrows and shrugs impatiently. “Well? Can you give me a number?”

“Forgive me, Your Grace.” You try to sit up straight to collect your thoughts, pulling up your night robe. “I don't understand…are you questioning my lineage?”

Aemond sets down his chalice with a loud clank. “We were having a conversation , brother.”

He had been all too eager to indulge you with tales about Valyria and the dragon riders, to share the mysteries of his long begotten ancestors and their homeland.

To show you diagrams of dragons in forbidden scrolls and share his own anecdotes about their care. It’s clear to you that Aemond loves dragons and is eager to get you up to speed so that you can be more efficient on Voidseer’s back and active in his care. When you’d explained to him that you didn’t want to simply leave him to the keepers, his eye had lit up and he was happy to begin imparting his wisdom to you.

“‘s just a question.” Aegon steps into the room, walking with a stupefied swagger, and plops next to you uncomfortably close.

His knee touches yours as he stretches across the table to grab the wine pitcher and refill your cup.

When that's done, he hands it to you and touches the black curls that cascade down your back. “I do not doubt that you've got Targareyn Blood, my lady, with such…beauty. Y’know, our aunt Rhaenys has black hair, too.”

You take a drink of wine and smile sheepishly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

The king is a handsome fellow with a cute face. He looks so much younger than Aemond and his perfectly chiseled cheekbones, but there’s a charm to it.

They're two flavors of Targareyn excellence that you wish to have a taste of.

“You honor me, your grace,” you whisper as Aegon continues touching the small of your back. “A bastard though I may be, I do hope that I can at least honor your family name by being pleasant to look at.”

He loops his arm around you and casts a grin at Aemond. “So how many, do you think? Maybe two or three?”

“I…I don't know?” You giggle nervously, not sure how serious he was.

“Do any of your brothers and sisters have white hair? Your parents?”

Aemond speaks up, clasping his hands together with his elbows on his knees and leaning forward in a way that indicates to his brother that he's not in the mood for this interruption to continue. “Aegon, if you'd attended her questioning at the small council two days ago you would have known that she has no kin. Doesn't even know who her parents are. She was working at the sept.”

“I do apologize, your grace,” you offer, bowing your head. “Your brother speaks the truth. I must confess, I am…still very surprised by all of this. But from the time I was a little girl, I've always admired dragons.” You allow yourself to relax into him, resting your back against the chaise pillows. “When I would hear about a dragon flying through the sky from the red keep, I'd drop everything just to catch a glimpse. This is a dream come true for me. I'm just sorry I've no information to offer on my lineage.”

Aegon’s arm tightens around you.

He takes a drink from your cup, his hand wrapped around yours, gulping loudly as he bottoms it out.

His palm is sweaty and hot, which is a welcome relief when your fingers are almost always cold.

“I'm going to put my heir in you and legitimize you,” he announces, grabbing at your breast and squeezing it, prompting you to gasp. “Gonna put you to work for our house–”

Aemond scoffs, rolling his eye.

“What?!” Aegon demands, seemingly more interested in him than you and you can't help but feel a little jealous.

“You're drunk, Aegon.” Aemond sits back and crosses his legs. “Are you forgetting we need her to ride for the war? She can't very well go into battle with a babe in her belly.”

Aegon glares at his brother.

They’re like two predators staring each other down in the woods and here you are, prey to both of them.

If you were a deer and they wolves, you could make an escape and slip past their notice, but you don’t want to–they are dragons and dragons fly, but that’s besides the point because you don’t want to escape. This is dangerous and unfamiliar territory, but you’d rather survive in a forest with carnivores than go back to the barren desert. The life of luxury you’ve yearned for would never be possible there and the only fate awaiting you would be the unrelenting rays of the sun to shrivel you up. Now that you’ve tasted the inside of the castle walls, you’ll die if you’re cast out.

“ Helaena won't let me,” Aegon grits his teeth, his fingernails pressing into your waist and pulling you back to reality. “And forcing her will just have mother bitching at me. I told her that if she doesn’t want to give me another son, I won’t force her. But this one?”

He turns to you, a sinister gleam in his eyes. “I'll breed her. You want to be a dragon, don't you?”

“I do, your grace.” More than anything.

“Then c’mon, I'll fuck you like one.” He stands, jerking you up with him so hard that the empty chalice falls out of your hand.

Aemond casts you a frown that’s almost pitiable–almost–and nods towards the bed with an expression that says, just bear with it .

He gets up to shut the door and, to your surprise, he sits back down and unbuttons his pants.

* * * * *

Aegon the Dragoncock lives up to his reputation.

His massive length plows into your sopping wet cunt as you lay on your elbows and knees across the mattress like a wanton animal, naked and panting. He hadn’t bothered to undress and you were too shy to ask him to.

This is the softest mattress you've ever felt in your life. You'll do whatever he wants so long as you can sleep on a bed like this for the rest of your life.

The head of his dick smashes against your cervix and his hands are gripping your hips so tightly you know you'll be bruised tomorrow.

Your pussy squeezes him, your muscles clenching in ecstasy–you're getting fucked by the King of Westeros. You almost can't believe it.

You moan sweetly for him over the indecent sound of your genitals, high pitched and feminine but most of all sincere; you haven’t had sex many times before, but this is truly the best you’ve ever had.

He thrusts himself into you over and over, his breathing ragged.

“Such pretty skin,” Aegon comments, giving your rear a hard smack that echoes through the chamber. “I'll get you pregnant as many times as it takes, d’you understand?”

Yes. Of course, you'll be honored to give him as many children as he wants. The alcohol coursing through your blood makes it easier to nod and offer full compliance.

Your voice won't string together the words correctly, so all you can do is dumbly whimper as he pulls out of you and flips you over onto your back. He takes hold of you by the hair and kisses you open mouthed. The taste of wine is still rich on his tongue and in his saliva. Kissing him back, you arch up into him, your breasts dragging along his chest. He squeezes one, massaging the plumpness between his fingers, his lust riddled mind no doubt imagining how much bigger they’ll get once they’re full of milk. “Fuck,” he breathes, his cock prodding against your slick vulva; you reach down to take hold of his member and guide it back into you. His voice shudders as he thrusts into you. “So fuckin’ tight…”

He kisses you again, tongue down your throat, and plants his hands under your knees. You suck on his tongue, humming delightfully, this ecstasy clouding your mind. There’s the faint sound of skin slapping from the chaise, where Aemond is watching this scene unfold, but you can’t bear to look at him. Somehow, it feels like a betrayal, but it isn’t like you could have told Aegon no, and Aemond must be enjoying himself…

Your legs slip over Aegon’s shoulders as he fucks you with abandon, holding onto your hips so that you don’t slide away from him; you’re moaning like a whore, unable to contain your voice when he’s fully sheathing himself in you with each jab against your cervix.

You let yourself cum, the sheets clenched in your fists, and you feel a gush of your own fluids secreting from your inner muscles.

This pleases your king very much for he’s practically gasping for air as he thrusts in you a few more times and then spills his seed directly into your womb. The warmth of his seed pools just below your belly button as he pumps himself dry, letting himself lay on top of you, lazily wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

He stops moving, his breathing slowing, and you close your eyes.

You lightly hug his torso, rubbing your hands along the backside of his ribs.

The sweat coating your skin chills you as a cool night breeze drifts through the window.

You watch the stars. The night has never been so beautiful.

Aegon eventually collects himself, your skin sticking together with sweat as he clumsily pulls himself up and exhales.

“Gods,” he says, more to himself than you, wiping his brow. “Happy to have you here with us.”

He chuckles and slaps your thigh. “Can certainly take a beating in bed, can’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond and tucks his flaccid cock into his pants, zipping them back up and stumbling out of the room to return to his drinking.

You realize that the door was never even shut this whole time! How many people heard you?!

Sitting up, you and Aemond exchange an awkward look for a split second. He won’t stare at your naked form.

Before you can say anything, he stands up and offers a hushed, “please get some rest, m’lady” and does you the courtesy of at least closing the door on his way out.

For a few seconds, you sit there in stunned silence at everything that’s happened this last week. That the king had just fucked you with the intent to impregnate you.

That in the dragonpit is a dragon–a majestic, glorious beast–that is bound to you and you alone. That soon you will get to ride him.

It’s really beginning to sink in that this will be your life now. Illegitimate or no, this is your chance to carve your name into nobility.

You couldn’t be happier, so why is your heart racing? Is it possible to be overwhelmed with gratitude? The gods are good. Whichever gods are pulling the strings of your fate, they are good.

Shaking your head and slinging your hair out of your eyes, you get up to grab the bottle of wine from the table and take it to bed with you.

* * * * *

The next morning you jolt awake to a loud knocking on the door.

The sun has scarcely risen and the birds in the courtyard are yet to sing.

You are alone here, left with only hazy memories of the last night filtered through a hangover that makes the knocking echo between your ears painfully.

“O-one moment, please!”

You scurry to recover your night robe from the floor and cover yourself.

Behind the door is Aemond, stone faced, his hands behind his back. “Good morning, my lady.”

He welcomes himself in, walking past you. “Be sure to lock the door.”

You slide the massive lock in place. “Is something wrong?”

He sits on the chaise and you hear something click on the table. “Sit with me.”

You approach him, looking dumbly between him and the miniature pot he’d just set down and opened. There’s a steaming liquid inside that he’s mixing with a thin spoon.

Were he not wearing gloves, surely it would have burned his skin.

“Next to me,” he says. “If it pleases you.”

It pleases you very much to sit closely to him, to feel his weight so close to yours.

“Is that tea?” You ask, peering into the black container. “It has a nice herbal aroma to it.”

“Indeed it is. It’s for you.” Aemond finishes mixing it and lays the spoon on the lid. “Once it cools down. It’s moontea. We can’t actually have you getting pregnant. At least not yet.”

You aren’t sure if you should be relieved. “Does the king know?”

“He does not and he shall not.” Aemond rests his arm against the back of the couch, turning to you and taking your chin with his other hand.

He stares into your eyes. “This will be a secret between you and me.”

You nod, cautiously reaching your hand up to touch his wrist. “Thank you, my prince. For doing so much for me. I know I am but a bastard, but I promise you: I will serve your family until my dying breath. It is truly an honor to–”

“Shh…” His thumb traces your bottom lip.

You hadn’t realized that your eyes were stinging. Tears are dripping down your cheeks.

His voice is low, gentle, like he’s trying to console you. “There was a time when I never would have considered someone not born from within these walls to be worthy of the Targaryen name. However…”

His gaze wanders to your hair, to the curls that are still wild and unkempt from last night, and he removes his hand from your chin to unlatch his glove with practiced dexterity.

He combs his bare fingers through your hair, tilting his head as if he’s finding just the right angle to stare into your soul. “I’ve had to come to learn that blood does truly matter the most. Bastard or no, whatever it is that makes us Targaryens, it radiates within you. You may not have our hair but you have our eyes, our pale skin that shines so beautifully in the moonlight. I see it in you. The blood of Old Valyria.”

Your body relaxes into the touch.

These are the kindest words anyone has ever spoken to you.

“I’ll tell you something that no one else will,” he continues. “Aegon is an ungrateful child. My brother has taken for granted every blessing the gods have bestowed upon him. He takes for granted our blood and the dominion that it grants us over dragons.”

Aemond caresses your neck and leans forward, pulling you closer so that his lips linger inches from your ear. “But you don’t. And that is why you are worthy of this house.”

* * * * *

Later that afternoon, Voidseer greets you with an enthusiastic shake of his head when he sees you enter the dragonpit.

The other dragons regard you with indifference as you walk towards him, huffs and snarls that to an ignorant ear might come across as a threat rather than acknowledgement.

Your ears are not trained, but you know this instinctively, and that fills you with a sense of pride.

It’s as if a set of gears in your mind are clicked perfectly into place. Up until now, you were operating as a half broken doll, but now you’re fixed. Being connected to this dragon has fixed you.

His body is sleek and he’s small for a dragon–approximately half the size of Sunfyre–but he is exceptionally fast. He’s built for speed. To fly you to the enemy, burn them, and then proceed to the next. You imagine that you will be doing that a lot in the war. Or rather, you hope so, because just imagining it is so thrilling! You must be mad to be so excited by the concept of burning alive the enemy, but Targaryens are known to be mad and so there’s no need to temper yourself.

Voidseer’s green eyes are shiny with delight as he lets out a delighted cry at your approaching, his slit pupils dilating.

He rises up to his feet, stretching his wings, which glisten purple underneath, and places his snout inches away from you.

With open arms, you lean into him and let your weight fall against him.

You can feel him breathing, the heat radiating from his nostrils.

There’s so much you want to tell him: that King Aegon has chosen to legitimize you, that the small council has elected to grant you an entirely fictional backstory so that you may exist as a distant Targaryen from Essos, that you will live in the castle and be cared for properly as a member of royalty and never be hungry again.

But you cannot tell Voidseer all of these wonderful revelations with words--not yet, not until Aemond has taught you Valyrian–and so you close your eyes and concentrate on telling him with your soul.

#house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aegon fanfic #aemond fanfiction #asoif fanfic

22 notes · View notes

lostinforestbound · 9 months ago

Text

It's finally here! I'm sorry it took me so long, with work and art projects I got completely swamped. But now it's here! I'm aware I'm posting this incredibly late so no one will see this until morning probably hahaha! Requested tag: @snoozeeebee

Rolan/M!Tiefling Tav

Third Time's the Charm - Ch.1

Rolan intends on doing great things when he finally gets to Baldur's Gate, but an utter idiot named Tav is distracting him. Unfortunately, against his better judgement, he's starting to fall for him.

Word Count: 5.9k (AO3)

Relevant Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rolan's POV, Makeout, No smut (yet) but it gets frisky, Slowburn

(If there's any tags I missed, please let me know!) NSFW, MDNI

They've been at this grove, stewing and waiting for too long. That Archdruid (Halsin was his name, he believes) might have been welcoming, but the other druids have not. Now he up and disappeared after he decided to follow a group of weak, loud, wannabe adventurers who were only out for themselves. When they cowered back inside the grove with less than half their group, he knew that this place was doomed. What's worse than all of that mess is that Lia is stubborn about leaving, and now they're in an argument again. They've been having them a lot in recent months, ever since the fall and rise of Elturel.

"-and all you care about is your stupid apprenticeship!" Lia shouts at him, his mind finally tuning back into the conversation- no, not a conversation, a damn shouting match.

Her words make him bristle and grind his teeth. How dare she? How dare she ever think this was all only for the apprenticeship? It's an insult to injury, knowing no matter what he does, trying to take care of them results in him being called selfish. What is selfish about wanting a better life for the three of them? They only have each other, their mother long gone. She's gone, and now he carries the sole responsibility of taking care of them.

She's gone.

"Take that back. Right now." He hisses, getting in her face as they glare each other down.

Cal immediately inserts himself in between the two of them, palms out in front of them both. "Can we all just take a moment? Please?"

Rolan idly notices the sweat gathering on Cal's temple as he pushes Lia back slightly by her shoulder, creating more space between all of them. He does the same to Rolan, but stays put in the middle to form a weak barrier- wait, who is that tiefling that approached? No, it doesn't matter.

"Hells, we can't just leave. They're kin!" Lia begs, almost pleading with him.

"I will not gamble our lives- our futures, on people who are as good as dead," He says somewhat calmly, though his tail still flicks behind him in irritation. "We must leave for Baldur's Gate at once."

Lia looks ready to bare her teeth at him, angry with him. She's always angry with him. "What's the point of blades and spells if we don't bloody use them?! We should stay! These people aren't fighters, we can help!"

"Or yell louder, that's fine too," Cal says with a familiar bitterness in his tone; gods, he hates that tone on Cal. He's been hearing it more often, these days.

"Have you forgotten Elturel?" A voice breaks through, and he finally acknowledges the presence beside them.

It's another tiefling, a much larger one at that. He's not part of the refugees, as he hasn't even seen him around until now. Did he just arrive here?

This one isn't that much taller than he is, only by a few inches; but hells, his mass absolutely dwarfs his own. A fighter most likely, or even worse, a barbarian. It doesn't matter which one he may be, he looks like an idiot that isn't worth his precious time.

"We should stand by our people. You know no one else will." He says lowly, giving a knowing look of both annoyance and sadness.

He loathes that look. He’s never wanted to blast someone more than in this moment. How dare he look at him as if he was some child throwing a tantrum?

"This isn't Elturel, and I'm not responsible for every damn tiefling in the world!" He exclaims, almost furious.

Lia pokes him harshly in the chest with her pointer finger, and he has to suppress a wince. "Just be responsible for yourself, then! We have to stay; it's the right thing to do."

He hates that fucking tiefling even more now. Not only has he butted into his family affairs, but now he turned his sister- Lia, even more against him. For once, why can't things go his way? Why do they not listen to him?

When did they stop listening to him?

"Zurgan. Fine! We'll stay. If we survive, it'll make for a good story, I suppose." He airs, rubbing a finger to his temple as he feels a headache form there.

For the first time in a long time, Lia gives him a genuine smile, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing. "Thank you, Rolan.” She says sincerely.

Cal now takes the calm moment to usher the two further into the grove, seeming to want to get away from the entranceway as soon as possible; for once, Rolan lets him. He doesn't pay any mind to the strange looks they get by going further into the grove with the other refugees, and he certainly doesn't pay any mind to the oaf of a tiefling that they left standing there by himself.

He decides he hates that man, and he pisses him off to no end.

"How long until Rolan shows off his Thunderwave?" Cal asks as they settle down near an old human woman's tent, who seems to be organizing some herbs in her storage crate. Something is off about her, but Rolan can’t put his finger on it. Either way, it doesn’t matter.

Lia snickers at that moment, crossing her arms over her chest. "Depends, how many people are dumb enough to ask?"

"Hah! True."

Rolan rolls his eyes, trying to dust off the dirt on his robes. He hates the smell of this damned grove, it stinks. Is he truly supposed to arrive to Lorroakan with his clothes smelling like this? He'll have to burn them, no question.

"Don't be grumpy, Rolan. We'll get to the city soon." Cal chirps, bumping his shoulder with his own.

"I am not grumpy."

"The scowl on your face would frighten a troll."

Despite the foul move he's in, he smiles at his little brother. "Heh. You're an idiot."

-----

It's been days, and that tiefling is still here.

He's heard about his many exploits; saving one of the children the druids held hostage, saving another orphan child from a group of relentless harpies, getting their money back from that tiefling brat with the eyepatch, and slaughtering Kagha. Emphasis on slaughtering.

When he came out of that grove where the ritual had stopped, he saw the amount of blood that was covering the large man. None of it was his own, he realized. The man barely had a scratch on him and seemed proud when exiting.

He caught himself staring at him many times, watching how the muscles stretched across his skin, seeing all the little imperfections. Scars, beauty spots, all the like. He internally curses himself and looks away when he feels his face growing hot.

Paying back attention to his siblings, he notices how Cal stares at the blacksmith across the way, rubbing his hands absentmindedly as he thinks of something.

"You shouldn't waste precious time on distractions. We need to head to Baldur's gate after this goblin fiasco is over." He remarks, getting up and brushing off dirt.

"Rolan." Lia warns, but he ignores her and walks away with a roll of his eyes. They need supplies, so he will go get them if they are too lazy to do so.

And, of course, the oaf is already buying them off of one of the druids. Damn it all!

"Need something?" He asks, inspecting him as if Rolan was much shorter than him.

He scoffs, even more irritated than he was originally, "I was in need of potions, but it seems you got them all already."

"What did you need?"

"It doesn't matter, you beat me to it!” He instinctively snaps, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. “Bloody health potions are so short of stock these days-"

Wordlessly, the man puts three large health potions into his arms, which, for once, renders Rolan speechless. He doesn’t even remember the original tangent he was about to go one. Something about price inflation, probably.

Staring down at the red potions in his arms, he snaps back into reality when he speaks again. "You three need it more than I do. I, at least, have a healer."

He sneers at him, gripping the potions tight. "So what, you look down on us?”

"Not at all."

"We are not charity cases,”He almost growls, baring his teeth. “What is your game here?"

"…Can I tell you a secret?"

Why is this his life? How did everything turn out this way? Why is he even entertaining this fool??

After a bit of contemplating his life choices, he finally responds. "What?"

The tiefling suddenly leans in to put his mouth near his ear, and gods he's so close. Tav was his name, wasn't it? He heard it in passing by one of his group mates. Balsam, rogue's morsel, and acorn truffle are what he smells on him, a strong scent that is surprisingly pleasant- gods, what is he thinking?! Feeling his face starting to heat up, he tries to take a step back, but Tav stills him with a hand on the back of his neck. It makes his breath catch in his throat.

Finally, Tav whispers to him, "I'm just being nice."

Tav pulls away, leaving Rolan completely dumbfounded as he continues. "I'm not trying to look down on you or be a pest, I just think you need the potions more than I do. Cause gods forbid these fucking druids try and help out people who need it." He spits with a roll of his eyes, staring directly at the Druid that was still besides them through this entire ordeal. He looks uncomfortable.

"Well, that is shockingly intelligent of you." He huffs, hoping the jab aggravated him. "Although, aren't you fighting a swarm of Goblins out there?"

"I am, but bold of you to assume they hit hard enough to hurt me." Before he could come up with another insult for his remark, Tav interjected. "Anyways, I have to return to my camp as it is getting late. Good luck to you and your siblings. Cal and Lia, right?"

He didn't have the chance to respond before the idiot sauntered off, back outside the grove. Great, now he's indebted to the bastard. Slowly, he stalks back into the grove, tying the potions to his belt as he does so.

-----

Some panic swept across the grove when people realized the goblin army planned to raid it for all it was worth. He's heard so many horror stories of slaughtered tieflings, their enemies sawing off their horns to keep as trophies or as foghorns.

If they think they could do the same to his family, they are sorely mistaken.

As others run and hide in Zevlor's war room, others stay to help fight, including himself. But, once again, the three of them can't stop arguing about their positions; he can tell Cal is getting pissed off, but so is he.

"I'm telling you to stay back. My Thunderwave will make short of any goblin that dares to come close. If you two are in the way, I'll knock you both over!"

"And I'm telling you to just get behind us! Spellcasters can't take a punch or a blade!" Lia shouts.

"Can we not argue over this? Please? How about we all line up together?"

"No." They both state and Cal immediately shuts up.

"Wow, you three must love each other very much." A familiar voice says sarcastically.

He grits his teeth and turns towards Tav. "Oh, piss off you oafish-"

"Wait! Wait, maybe Tav can help us out. Figure out positioning and whatnot?" Cal suggests quickly.

"Great idea Cal! Let's ask the professional harpy slayer."

Tav looks at them all, seeming to take in the equipment and weapons that they have on hand. In all honesty, Rolan didn't even think Tav could think.

Suddenly, Tav grabs Cal and moves him to the front, and in the next moment, he gently moves Lia to the back, leaving Rolan in the middle. "There. That's a good positioning."

"See? Easy!" Cal says cheerfully. "Now can we just-"

"Why can’t I be in the front with Cal?”

“Lia come on-“

“I want to be able to help out!”

Tav yawns briefly before explaining, "You will be helping, a lot. Both of you and Rolan are range users. You will hit goblins better by staying in the back where you'll be more effective. Cal here is in melee, with both a pike and a shield. He can protect you both and be your frontliner, while at the same time, you two cover his blind spot. Although, alternatively, you two could be next to each other, but stay behind him."

Rolan blinks slowly, processing the logic behind it. Damn it all, it's incredibly smart. Maybe Tav isn’t an idiot.

"There, good enough explanation?" He asks.

"It's great! Thank you, sincerely." Lia says, patting Tav's shoulder.

"…You're welcome." He pauses before putting a hand into his bag. "We'll kill those bastards out there, no doubt. But I would feel better if you all have this just in case."

Taking out a bright scroll, he holds it out to the three of them to take. Rolan instantly recognized it, especially with the unique binding on it.

A Resurrection Scroll.

Lia is the first to react and take it. "We won't need this, but thank you! Doesn't hurt to have a backup plan if things go wrong."

"I'll make sure it goes smoothly." He reassures, cracking his knuckles.

"What do you have planned, anyway?" Cal wonders aloud.

"I stole a bunch of smoke powder barrels in their camp and set them up along the perimeter. Anyways, they could be here any moment. Stay vigilant. If all goes super well, you won't even have to fight."

-----

They feel the explosions before they hear it. A deep rumbling in the ground that shakes them, awake and alert. There are so many of them that go off after the first one, like a domino effect. How many barrels could Tav have possibly gotten his hands on??

Unfortunately, those explosions didn’t stop a giant spider and some goblins from coming in.

Goblins were easy. He made quick work of them with his thunderwave, blasting them back into the stone wall. Though with his distraction of mentally stroking his own ego, he didn’t see the giant spider coming up until Cal quickly got to his side, blocking its oncoming fangs with his shield, the force of the bite splintering the wood.

His eyes widen, and he blasts a magic missile at the spider right as Lia shoots an arrow into one of its eyes. It screeches in pain, but it’s stubborn in its conviction. It lunges, and Cal cries out when it tears into his arm, trying to rip off his flesh.

Rolan shoots off another thunderwave in his anger and panic, killing the spider in an instant. He watches some of the legs get cut clean off, the body flying and crashing into some crates, destroying them, and its sickly green innards spilling onto the dirt floor. A disgusting sight, indeed.

“Cal!” Lia yells quickly, snapping Rolan back into reality and he quickly rushes over.

Cal is teary-eyed but tries to wave it off, even as Lia tries to get a better look. “I-I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Come here.” Rolan says maybe a little too harshly, making his brother sit down on a wayward crate and grabbing his elbow to hold it still.

“Rolan please-“

“You look close to crying! Just-“ He stops himself and takes a deep breath, eyes meeting his. “Let me help. Please.”

Cal sighs shakily but nods, letting his arm be lifted for him and Lia to see.

It’s a deep injury, but nothing deathly serious. It looks painful. The spider managed to inject some kind of poison, but Cal resisted whatever effect it could have taken.

Rolan takes out one of the health potions he’s received from Tav and carefully pours it over the injury, and it slowly seals the wound. No scar is left behind, surprisingly enough.

“Does it hurt?” Lia gently presses.

“Not anymore. Thanks, Rolan.”

He wants to yell at him so badly, the argument already bubbling up his throat. Why wasn’t he more careful? Why did he jump towards his side so quickly? He had it handled! He’s supposed to protect him, not the other way around.

Instead, he settles on, “You’re welcome.”

Knowing it’s safer, Cal leans against him quietly, and Rolan carefully holds him with Lia. It wasn’t even a close call, but it’s clear Cal needed some comfort.

No more enemies come through. There were no casualties, either.

Zevlor ends up making a speech at the gate when they check out the damage, and he’s sure others are inspired, but he’s barely paying attention to it. He doesn’t care, in all honestly. He wants to leave this fucking grove and never look back; it is by far the worst place they’ve ever stayed in, second to Avernus. Though, he might be being dramatic.

He found himself looking around for Tav, but he didn’t see him anywhere. Why was he looking for him, anyway?

When he finally spots him, he shouldn’t be shocked by the amount of gore he’s covered in, but he is. He’s completely drenched in blood, whether from the goblins or the Drow leading them. Some of it was his own since he spots injuries littering his frame.

He shakes his head and straightens up, shifting his attention to his siblings and ignoring the warmth growing in his cheeks. “Now that this fiasco is over, we will head to Baldur’s Gate.”

“Are you serious Rolan?! Come on, there’s going to be a party!” Lia complains, bumping her hip with his. “We have to go.”

“We don’t have time for parties! Lorroakan is waiting for me, I cannot be late.”

“What’s one party, Rolan? It’s just for a night. We need to rest anyways.” Cal says, looking around the other excited tieflings. When was the last time they saw a crowd of them so happy? He certainly doesn't remember, and it makes his original conviction crack a little.

“I will not-“

Cal takes hold of one of his arms, tugging him. “Please, Rolan? Just for tonight.”

“There’ll be free wine, provided by the heroes.” Lia sing-songs, leaning against him and almost making him stumble.

“…Free wine?” He questions, genuinely thinking about it.

“And free food,” Cal confirms.

Gods, he hates the pathetic puppy-dog eyes that they use. He can’t stand to look at their faces, and he hates it even more that he's falling for it, just as he always has.

He sighs heavily in defeat, head hanging a little low. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Cal cheers, giving him a tight hug.

To his surprise, Lia joins in, the both of them crushing him. “Thank you, Rolan!”

He rolls his eyes but lets a smile break through, even when he can hardly breathe. “All this over a party?”

“It’ll be fun! You’ll see!”

He smirks knowingly, finally separating from the two. “All right all right, I trust that this will be an exceptional occasion. I look forward to seeing you say you love me while drunk, Lia.”

"As if, brother."

It doesn’t take long for Tav to offer up his area with his party members, so they gather with the Tieflings and head to the camp. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s secluded at least.

That bard, Alfira, starts decorating the place in an instant; lantern lights go up, colorful ribbons decorate the trees, and boxes get moved to the side. Others help out, including Lia, but Rolan and Cal sit back and relax for the time being.

When the party finally starts, they pass wine between the three of them.

“Can you give us a magic show, Master Rolan?” She teases.

Rolan rolls his eyes playfully. “Already?”

“Oh! Can you make an owl bear?? Or a dragon!” Cal suggests, scooting forward more on the log.

He stretches out his arms in front of him, cracking his knuckles while doing so. "Patience! Have you no respect for showmanship?"

"Having performance issues Rolan?" Cal whisper-shouts playfully, and Rolan idly notices Tav approaching.

He turns his nose up high momentarily before holding his hands out. "Hush, you. And behold!"

It's a brief performance, but amazing nonetheless if he says so himself. He makes it look like stars that spark, fly, and explode into various lights. He has always been irritated he could never make it last long, but that is what his training will be for.

He looks over at Tav as soon as he claps, seeing the way his eyes glide over the lights. His face doesn’t change in the slightest, so he can’t tell if his clapping is meant to be some sort of taunt or if he’s genuine.

Either way, he does a dramatic bow. "Adoring applause? You're too kind."

"Remember when he couldn't cast that?" Lia teases.

"They grow up so fast," Cal states.

"Never have I met such troglodytes. Now, pass the wine." Rolan demands, but a content smile is plastered on his face.

It seems Lia was about to offer Tav some of it, but when she and Rolan turn towards him, he’s already gone.

“Looks like he already got bored of you.” Lia sings to him.

“Oh hush up.” He huffs, snatching the wine bottle and taking a long drink.

He will never admit how much that comment stung. He doesn’t know why he was so bothered by it in the first place. There are many possibilities he goes over as he feels the alcohol give him a pleasant buzz; was it her wording, or was it the fact that Tav disappeared without a word? Did he get bored?

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care what that man thinks of him. He swears he doesn’t.

Later in the night, he drank- no, chugged wine while Cal and Lia chatted with the other tieflings partying. As much as he loved to perform for them both, even someone as great as he gets tired after using a bunch of magic in rapid succession.

The wine wasn’t good; nothing compares to Arabellan Dry, but what else was there to drink? He refuses to partake in ale or beer, he never found the appeal of it. Honestly, it’s disgusting, and he doesn’t understand why Lia likes it so much. Cal seems to be looking for someone in particular but isn't finding them. He looks disappointed.

As he wonders about Cal and debates checking in on him, he doesn’t notice the brute approaching him until his giant form sits next to him with his own alcohol, the bark of the fallen tree groaning from the extra weight. He covers up how it startled him quickly, tilting his head up towards the brute with a bored expression.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. I’m here to drink.” He says nonchalantly, sipping on the wine bottle. “Impressive display of magic earlier.”

His nose scrunches up, yellow eyes settling on his flaming ones with a glare. “Was that sarcasm?”

“No. Are you self-taught?”

Of all the things he expected tonight, it wasn’t this. Tav, a person who hits things and asks questions later, is curious about him? He wonders if he has an ulterior motive.

He pushes the thought to the back burner of his brain for now but approaches the conversation cautiously. “I am! And a man with many talents, may I add. I’m going straight to Baldur’s Gate to learn from the best: The Great Lorroakan.”

He sees the imposing Tiefling roll his eyes, putting his bottle down to stare out at the water surrounding the camp. Tav looks a little different, in the moonlight. Seeing him up close is a different experience entirely, and now he can see every little detail about him, including how he was shirtless-

Wait, did he just roll his eyes?

“What?” He demands, posture straightening as he grows defensive.

“Nothing. Just heard he’s a cad is all.” He mutters, deciding to pick the bottle back up and taking a long swig.

“Common gossip and rumors! He’s the greatest wizard in all of Baldur’s Gate. I’ve never imagined he would answer my letters.” He states with a happy sigh, idly swirling the liquid in his bottle. “I will become his apprentice as soon as I arrive. I cannot be late, yet Cal and Lia insist that this party is a wonderful idea. An adoring crowd, fine wine - I daresay this place is almost civilized.”

“Do you regret staying?”

“Of course I do. But Cal and Lia…” He trails off for only a moment but snaps back to it. “They deserve to have some fun for a little while. We’ll leave at dawn, either way.”

The Tiefling stares at him for a moment, seeming to be searching his face. For what, Rolan had no idea. Some kind of lie, perhaps?

“All right then. Good luck to you.” Tav eventually settles on.

“…That’s it??” He exasperates.

“If you’re looking for someone to argue with, find someone else.”

“You-“

“You talk too much.”

He settles a death glare on Tav's form. “Prick.”

Tav slowly looks at him with his own glare, determined to play his game. “Entitled fuck.”

“Dumb oaf.”

“Prickly bastard.”

They both stare each other down, faces too close but neither of them breaks their stare. He feels Tav's hot breath ghosting over his lips, and the tension could be cut with a knife.

“You’re insufferable.” Tav huffs, suddenly gripping Rolan’s jaw and kissing him firmly.

He moans in surprise at the force but isn’t against it. In fact, his face gets incredibly red before he remembers he can kiss back.

It’s not like this is his first kiss. He’s given and received kisses before, he’s not some kind of reserved prude. But this is the first one that’s so heavy. Hot. He’s completely out of practice and can do nothing but grip Tav's thicker forearm.

Something about being desirable to Tav makes him throb in his pants, though it also may be the way Tav's tongue is tracing his bottom lip, seeking entry.

Tav's free hand trails to his rear and squeezes, making him inhale sharply; a perfect opportunity for Tav to slide his tongue in to taste him. He knows he's losing his composure and by extension, himself, but what's the harm in indulging in this? It's pathetic, but he's never felt so desired up until this moment, even if this ends up being a fling.

Why did the thought of this being a fling make him feel hollow?

He pulls away to give himself space and to breathe, but Tav doesn't pause, kissing along his jaw and ear. "My tent is west of here if you're interested. No one will hear us."

He shudders at the feeling of sharp teeth grazing the edge of his ear, teasing and provoking. Swallowing, he nods, and Tav pulls him away from the party towards a more secluded part of the area. He hopes that Lia and Cal didn't see him, but they most likely did. He’ll never hear the end of it when he returns.

Almost clumsily, Rolan finds himself in Tav’s tent quickly after, their kissing getting more heated between them. It was a strange feeling, exchanging breaths with someone else, but it felt good. Better than he thought.

They settle down on the floor of the tent, him sitting in Tav’s lap as they continue their make-out. Their tongues dance almost…lovingly. No, he can’t be reading into it right. They barely know each other; he's overthinking again.

He feels his large hands attempting to find the hem of his robes, and he seems to find it quickly as if from experience. Fingers start to dance across the bare skin of his back, running up the ridges of his spine. He sighs out shakily, goosebumps prickling out as his tail anxiously flicks about. Nerves hit him like a loose carriage, fast and suddenly, settling into the pit of his stomach. He felt cold, heart racing a mile a minute.

Why? This was good. Everything was good. This was supposed to feel good.

Why isn’t it?

He’ll give it time. It’s normal to be nervous about this kind of thing, right? Most definitely his lack of experience is a contributor, and doesn’t he deserve this after all his hardship? What’s the harm in pleasure for at least a night.

He feels his back hit the bedroll, warm calloused hands trailing over to the front of his body instead. Their kisses were feverish, desperate, and pent-up. All Rolan could do was grip the bedding below him as nails teased the textured skin of his sternum, a hand rolling a nipple between two fingers.

Tav’s lips go to his neck, finger tips trailing teasingly down his stomach before he begins to palm at his crotch through his smalls-

He can’t do it.

A cold sweat beads on the back of Rolan’s neck, panic and bile rising in his throat as it closes. He can’t do it, and he quickly grabs Tav’s arm with a death grip with wide eyes. “W-Wait, stop!”

Tav immediately gets his hands off of him, giving him space to move. His head reels from the sudden adrenaline, but also because Tav’s stoic demeanor is no longer present, and the man genuinely looks concerned. Fearful, even. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! No.” He reassures quickly, but his vulnerable mind is scattered and unfocused as he sits up.

There’s so many reasons why he couldn’t do this, but he can’t pin one down. Surely, Tav deserves an explanation, so he rushes to think of one.

It’s too soon, he hasn’t done this before, and this isn’t the place for it, he’s not a degenerate, his siblings are nearby, Tav is too imposing, it might hurt, it’s too vulnerable, he’s never been with a man, he’s never been with anyone, this is the wrong place to do it, he’s a coward, he’s scared-

“I can’t.” He grimaces, with no actual reason good enough to say out loud. Part of him is worried about what Tav would say; would he be upset with him? On one hand, if he does, Rolan knows that Tav was never worth his time. But on the other, he found Tav not as insufferable as he thought, and he may have just ruined the strange bond they made by stopping everything. Gods, he is pathetic, isn’t he?

Tav sighs slowly in relief, sitting back. “That’s okay.”

It’s not good enough, not for Rolan. As a wizard, he demands answers for a multitude of reasons when things happen. It’s only fair that he gives an explanation, is it not? Finally, he pins down a reason he could give: he doesn’t want to do it after having so much wine. There, that should do it.

Before he could start his tangent, he felt a hand cover his mouth.

“I don’t need a reason. It’s okay.”

He’s about to argue, completely insulted, but it gets muffled by the hand on his mouth.

“You don’t ever have to explain to me why you want to stop.” He says, finally moving his hand away. “I’m sorry if you felt like you couldn’t say no to me earlier.”

“I did want it.” He assured quickly, because he did. He truly did. Why did he panic?

“But you changed your mind.” He began, not unkindly.

“I did.”

“That’s fine.” He says with a small shrug. “If you want, we can keep kissing. Nothing further than that.”

He laughs in disbelief, running a hand down his sweaty face. “And why would we do that?”

“Doesn’t hurt to have company for a night. Besides-“ He gently takes hold of his chin, tilting his face up. “You seemed to enjoy what we were doing. Why not indulge? Just for one night.”

He smirks up at him, leaning forward with false confidence. “Am I that irresistible?”

“You have a pretty face.” He noted, swiping his thumb across his kiss-bruised lip before kissing him again.

The kiss is lazy and less heated, but it makes his heart pound all the same. Being held so tenderly is new, and he’s growing attached.

He cannot have attachments. What is he thinking?

After kissing for a little longer, he lets himself be held in the bedroll as they lay down, indulging in the quiet night with Tav. They didn’t need to discuss what happened or question it. It’s exchanging favors. For Rolan, it’s just wanting the comfort of another body near him, letting him pretend that he’ll have something like this in the future. One day, he’ll be good enough for someone. He’s not sure what this does for Tav exactly, but he seems content to hold him.

“You can ask for more if you’d like.”

“I’d rather not embarrass myself more than I already have.” He barks before glancing at him in apology, eyes softer.

“Would it help if I said I will keep my mouth shut about this?” Tav suggested, pushing some hair away from his face.

He shifts to glance at his face, seeing if he is genuine. He can never read his face that well, but when he makes his judgment, he sighs and takes one of Tav’s hands, lacing his fingers through his.

“This is pathetic, I know.”

“I don’t think it’s pathetic.” He mumbles, squeezing his hand. “This is nice for me, too.”

Rolan feels himself relax more, body almost relieved that this hasn’t been rejected.

“What will you do, when you finally get your apprenticeship figured out?” Tav asks in the quiet.

“I’ll learn everything I can about all schools of magic. Then I can put on a real show for Cal and Lia.”

“They seem to love your shows already, why change them?”

“It’ll be different.” He pledged, “Bigger, better, and more sustainable. I’ll make them last so much longer, I’ll bring it more colors, and the illusion will look realistic. You will see.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great.” He yawns, nuzzling into the back of his neck.

“I will show you when you reach to Baldur’s Gate, my friend.”

There’s no response, only a quiet snore greets him. At first, he’s annoyed, but it’s hard to be angry when he is just as exhausted from today. For now, he falls asleep in his arms, hoping that for once no nightmares haunt him.

The Tiefling beside him is still fast asleep when he wakes at dawn, though he’s impressed by how the man can sleep through the screeching birds outside.

Quickly, he fixes his robes and hair, trying to not look like a mess. Cal and Lia are surely going to tease him, knowing he never returned to their tent. He debates on whether to wake the idiot up to say goodbye, but that seems foolish. He needs to sleep, and they need to head to Baldur’s gate immediately.

So he opens the tent, sparing one more look back before leaving.

He cannot create attachments. Not now, not ever. Not until he’s done with his apprenticeship.

#forest-writes #holy rolan empire #rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 #rolan x tav #cal #lia #rolan fanfic #rolan brainrot

57 notes · View notes